


The Sound of Change

by gertie_flirty



Series: Listen and You Will Hear [4]
Category: Ranma 1/2
Genre: F/M, Gender Issues, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Parent Trap shenanigans, overly precocious children
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:55:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 39
Words: 157,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27904846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gertie_flirty/pseuds/gertie_flirty
Summary: A very lost young man arrives at the Tendo dojo, looking for Ranma Saotome, the greatest martial artist in the world. What he finds instead is not what he expected at all.Sometimes history repeats itself, whether you know it or not.
Relationships: Hibiki Ryouga/Tendou Nabiki, OMC/OMC, Saotome Ranma/Tendou Akane
Series: Listen and You Will Hear [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1802869
Comments: 33
Kudos: 28





	1. This Must Be the Place

_ When they were 42 _

Ryoichi opened the gates to the Tendo dojo, broom in hand. Walked back to the front door, and started sweeping the walkway, pushing the dirt and debris forward, towards the street. Only a few more days left of spring break, before the new school year started. And he would finally be in high school. He had only turned sixteen the day before, but he was ready. High school seemed so adult. He had a good relationship with his parents, but they could be a little overprotective. So he had started to pick up more responsibilities around the house, all on his own. Maybe they could start seeing him as a grown up.

The sun was shining, no clouds threatening a spring rain in the sky. Which meant he was surprised to see another teenager, a boy in a plaid shirt, standing at the gates, large rucksack on his back with an umbrella attached to it. The boy had a yellow and black bandana tied around his head, and his hair was short on the sides, a bit long in the front, flowing over the bandana. He looked down at his cell phone. Up at Ryoichi.

“Tell me—” said the boy, without waiting for a greeting. “Is this the Tendo dojo?’

Ryoichi leaned on the broom. Put one hand on his hip. Looked over at the sign next to the front door that said TENDO DOJO. Looked back at the strange boy.

“Yeah man.”

“Ah, great!” The boy broke into a grin of relief and Ryoichi noticed his canine teeth were particularly sharp. Put his cellphone in his pocket. Unfastened the straps around the umbrella on his rucksack and held it in one hand. “That must mean Ranma Saotome lives here!”

“He does,” said Ryoichi. “That’s my dad.”

“You’re—you’re his son?!” An eager gleam flashed in the boy’s eyes. Ryoichi awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, making sure his long hair was still clipped up in the back.

“Yeah?” said Ryoichi. “I feel like I just said that.”

“Then you would probably be a great warm up fight!”

With no further warning, the other boy thrust his umbrella in Ryoichi’s direction. Ryoichi bent backwards at the waist, watching it fly past his nose. The boy retracted the umbrella and swung again, and Ryoichi jumped up in the air, throwing the broom aside and flipping forward, landing behind the other boy’s back.

“Uh, listen—” said Ryoichi, dodging continuous strikes from the umbrella. “If you’re here to challenge the dojo, you should really—”

“I don’t care about your dojo!” The boy heaved himself forward, and Ryoichi dodged again. The umbrella struck the ground, causing the walkway stones to split apart, leaving a small crater at point of impact.

“Jeez, how heavy is that thing?” Ryoichi asked, adapting a ready stance as the boy turned on him again.

“I want to fight your father!” the boy yelled, using his umbrella to flip forward himself, aiming a kick at Ryoichi’s head. 

“Dad?” Ryoichi blocked the kick. Pushed the leg out of the way and slid backwards. “Why?”

“Your father is the greatest martial artist in the world! I’ve been training to challenge him for years!”

“Dad?” Ryoichi stood still in confusion, easily blocking the other boy’s next punch. “Dad’s not a martial artist.”

The boy blinked, then narrowed his eyebrows. “Very funny.”

“It’s not a joke?” said Ryoichi. “He’s a baker. He hates martial arts.”

“I see.” The boy pointed his umbrella at Ryoichi. “My father warned me your father was a trickster. Always trying to deceive others. This is some kind of distraction tactic!”

Ryoichi leapt over the next punch, backflipping, still bewildered. “Listen, I’m not lying—”

“Silence! Stay still and fight like a man!”

The other boy opened his umbrella and threw it so it spun on its central pole through the air. Ryoichi ducked as it flew past him and shredded the trunk of a small tree in their front garden. 

“Hey, watch it!” Ryoichi moved in closer and punched the other boy in the head, striking him for the first time. “My sister loves this garden! Don’t mess it up!”

The boy caught the umbrella, shocked that Ryoichi had punched him. 

“Then stay still!”

He threw the umbrella again, and it spun down the walkway towards Ryoichi, who moved aside, and let it travel towards the open gates, not realizing who was about to walk through and catch it.

* * *

“Thank you! Please come again!”

Ryoichi’s mother nodded and smiled at the store clerk, gathering the bags in her arms. Hopefully she had purchased the right things for Ranma to make dinner with. He gave her precise lists that she was usually able to follow, but sometimes the ingredients he wanted were very obscure. Or expensive. Not like their finances were tight, not anymore, not since the bakery took off, but still. The twins seemed to always be outgrowing their shoes, or there was some hospital bill, and Ryoichi was going to high school now. He would be at university soon, and would need money.

Nonetheless, she was confident she had purchased the right things this time, and left the store with a smile on her face. She pushed her glasses up her nose and looked down at her phone. No texts. That was good. The client she had spoken with earlier had seemed really happy, and she had managed to convince them to book the dojo for their wedding while only having to come down a little on the fee. 

As she turned down the street to her house, there was a loud commotion coming from the front garden, the gates open. Curiously, she turned into the gates right as a spinning red umbrella was headed directly towards her.

She caught it easily in one hand, the handles of the shopping bag sliding down her arm.

“An umbrella?” she said, curiously. Reaching up with her other hand, she adjusted her glasses again. “But it’s not raining.”

“Mom,” asked Ryoichi, staring at his mother as he paused mid grapple with another boy. “Isn’t that heavy?”

“Hmm?” She raised it up and down a little, testing the weight. “I suppose it is.”

“How on earth are you—”

The other boy was yelling, shock displayed on his face. She closed the umbrella. Set it down. Walked over to the other boy, the one who was not her son. 

“Oh my goodness,” she whispered, covering her mouth with one hand. “It’s you.”

Ryoichi and the other boy released each other, both of them confused. 

“Me?”

She reached out. Touched the boy’s face. Let her fingers slide along his bandana. “You look just like him. Of course you do.”

“Who?” asked Ryoichi.

She dropped her hand. Turned to her son. Smiled.

“Ryoichi,” said Akane. “This is Rantaro. His father is—was—your father’s best friend.”

* * *

_ When they were 25 _

“Jeez, I can’t believe this place,” Ranma murmured as he and Akane shuffled into the reception with the horde of other guests. High white ceilings, a full dance floor, dozens of tables with elaborate centerpieces. “Doesn’t really seem like Ryoga’s taste.”

“I was surprised too,” whispered Akane, rubbing her hand over her swollen stomach. “Isn’t Akari’s family pig farmers?”

“I guess sumo pigs is a profitable business,” said Ranma as he and Akane found their table with a bunch of Akari’s cousins. He pulled out a chair and helped his wife sit down. With the extra weight, her balance was a little off and he worried about her constantly. 

“Ryoga’s family is rich too,” said Akane. “Maybe they’re the ones who pushed for the big wedding?”

Ranma took a seat next to her and looked around. A lot of the tables on the Hibiki side were almost, or completely, empty. “I don’t think so. Hardly any of them seem to have actually found the place.”

Akane laughed. “Aw, poor Ryoga-kun.” 

“Poor? He’s married. Kid on the way. Both of them are stupid rich. They’ll be fine.”

“But the only reason they got married is because she’s—-Akari! Hi! Congratulations!”

Ranma stood to greet the newly married couple as they approached the table. Akane remained seated. She was tired of standing up and down and she really wasn’t terribly supportive of their marriage. She was also so pregnant she was beyond the point of caring if she appeared rude. Still, she smiled up at Ryoga and Akari and tried to make her eyes apologetic.

“I’m so glad you could come!” Akari said, beaming. She was glowing with a healthy energy. Ryoga was smiling too, but his grin was much more nervous and shaky.

“Congratulations, man,” said Ranma, shaking Ryoga’s hand with enthusiasm. “I mean it.”

“Thanks, Ranma, I’m glad you could make it,” Ryoga replied. He put his arm around his new wife and looked at Akane. “Akane, how are you feeling?”

“Oh, I’m fine. Just tired of standing up. Being this pregnant is exhausting.”

“Do you guys know if you’re having a boy or a girl?” asked Akari. “Or is it a surprise?”

Akane looked at Ranma and they shared a smile. “It’s a boy.”

“Oh, that’s so wonderful! It would have been wonderful if it was a girl, too, of course—”

Akane laughed. “We’re glad it’s a boy. We have a great name picked out.”

“Oh?” said Akari. “What’s that?”

Ranma and Akane smiled at each other again, and this time Ranma was the one to answer.

“Ryoichi.”

Ryoga looked at him, wide-eyed.

“Ryo—” He slowly pointed one finger back at himself. “Ichi?”

Ranma nodded, grinning. “That’s right, bud.”

The two men both had tears welling up in their eyes as they continued to gaze at each other. Akane leaned back in her chair and rubbed her stomach. She was just waiting for—

“I LOVE YOU RANMA!”

“I LOVE YOU TOO MAN!”

And then they were openly sobbing and embracing in the middle of the reception floor. Akane wished, more than ever, that she was able to drink champagne.

* * *

_ When they were 42 _

Akane brought out a tray full of tea cups and set them on the table. Rantaro awkwardly took one and held it in his hands without drinking. Ryoichi eagerly took one and drank half of the tea in one gulp. His mother wasn’t much of a cook, but with all the tea she had made over the years, she had really perfected her brewing method. 

She took a seat across from the two boys, unable to stop smiling. 

“It’s really incredible to see you,” said Akane. “The last time I did, you were just a baby. Only two teeth in your head.”

“Uh—” Rantaro furrowed his thick eyebrows together. “I don’t understand.”

Akane took a small sip of tea. “Don’t understand what?”

“I thought—my dad said that—he said Ranma Saotome was his greatest rival! His mortal enemy!”

“Did he?” asked Akane. “That’s a shame.”

“Dad?” asked Ryoichi. “Is your dad, like, one of those bakers who lost in one of those competitions?”

“Huh? No! He’s a martial artist! Stronger than anyone I’ve ever met!” Rantaro set his mug down with a clink. “I’m determined to beat Ranma Saotome in a fight! Show my dad what I can do!”

“I’m sorry,” said Akane, setting her own tea down. She was still smiling, but there was sadness behind it. “My husband is not a martial artist.”

“I don’t understand,” said Rantaro. “My dad said he was the best martial artist in the world.”

“Are you sure he didn’t mean my mom?” asked Ryoichi. “Because I’m pretty sure—”

“Your mom?” Rantaro scoffed. “Absolutely not!”

Akane’s eyebrow twitched slightly, but she maintained a smile. “If you’re looking for a fight, Rantaro-kun, I’d be more than happy to give you one.”

“Yeah, you wanted to warm up with me, but she’s the one you should be after,” added Ryoichi.

“I’m not looking to fight someone’s mom,” growled Rantaro.

Akane’s eyebrow twitched again and her smile turned into a tight line. Noticing her facial expressions, Ryoichi grinned. “Oh man, my mom’s gonna kick your ass.”

“Be polite, Ryoichi,” his mother said firmly. She tilted her head. “Although, I suppose we could have a match.”

“It’s not appropriate,” muttered Rantaro. 

“Well, Mom, looks like he’s afraid,” Ryoichi said. “He probably should be, though.”

“Ryoichi, it’s not nice to tease those who are weaker than us,” chided Akane. “Their fear is how they protect themselves.”

Rantaro frowned deeply. They were ganging up on him. Trying to rile him up. It was working.

“Fine,” Rantaro said. “Let’s spar.”

* * *

Ryoichi showed Rantaro the dojo while Akane went to change. It was clean, in good repair. Akane always made sure it was in tip-top shape whether it was for an event or for one of her few classes she taught. She was proud of the place, and Ryoichi was too. It had been in his family for five generations, after all. 

“This is it?” grumbled Rantaro, looking around. “It’s not very big.”

Ryoichi frowned. “Big enough for you to get your ass beat.”

The two boys glared at each other, each clenching their fists at their sides. They were the same height. Both broad-shouldered. In shape. And yet, had completely different energies emanating from them. Rantaro wanted to say something, but it seemed like every time he did, he dug himself into a deeper hole. 

“Ready?”

Akane, smiling, standing in the dojo doorway, dressed in a yellow gi. Rantaro turned and nodded, hesitating as he looked at how small and short she was, the glasses framing her big eyes. She had gray hair at her temples. But she kept a smile on her face as she walked up to him, keeping her hands behind her back. Her energy was warm. Welcoming. He was more bewildered than ever. 

They stood a few feet apart and she still kept smiling, her hands behind her back. Rantaro uneasily fell back into a ready stance, feet apart, one hand up, one close to his chest. 

“This is gonna be amazing,” said Ryoichi, beaming. He raised one hand and brought it down in a chopping motion. “Ready? Begin!”

Rantaro tensed his muscles, centering his body weight in his hips. Akane didn’t move. Just smiled. He took a step to the side, and she turned, slightly, in place. He didn’t feel right, fighting an older woman. Someone’s mother. 

“Well, come on,” Akane said. “Throw a punch or something.”

He did. Slow, half-hearted. She dodged, easily, simply leaning to the side. He retracted his fist. Okay. Anyone could have dodged that. He struck out with his opposite arm. She dodged again, just tilting ever so slightly. Fair enough. She was fast. He quickly spun his leg up into a high kick, and she bent backwards at the waist, and he recognized her moves from his earlier brief spar with Ryoichi. 

Rantaro started picking up the pace of his punches and kicks, and she dodged them all easily. But he was forcing her back across the dojo floor until eventually, she was against the wall. Her smile didn’t waver, even as he threw one heavy punch, aiming at her chest, letting his frustration get the best of him. 

She jumped up, high, rather than merely dodging. His fist cracked through the wood, lodged in the wall. Akane landed on top of Rantaro’s forearm, her feet together as though on a balance beam. Rantaro stared up at her in amazement, and she was still smiling. 

“You’re strong, like your dad,” she said cheerily. “But just as slow.”

She sprung up, off his arm, somersaulting forward in the air. The force freed his arm from the wall, but as he turned around to face her as she landed, she dipped low and swept his feet out from under him with one leg. Rantaro fell, landing on his back, his head hitting the dojo floor. 

Akane leaned over him, next to Ryoichi, beaming. 

“Did she—” Rantaro stared up at their faces, confused as to what just happened. “Did she just beat me with her hands literally behind her back?”

“I guess I did, huh?” said Akane.

“Sure did, Mom!” Ryoichi grinned. “Great job!”

“Why are you so weirdly supportive of her?” asked Rantaro, still flat on his back on the floor.

“She’s my mom,” replied Ryoichi. “I love her.”

“Aw,” said Akane. 

A bright musical chirp started emanating from her pocket. Akane pulled her phone out of her gi and answered it. 

“Hello!”

She listened. Smiled. “All right. See you soon. Love you.”

“You didn’t even take your phone out of your pocket while we were fighting?” asked Rantaro. Had he really registered as so little a threat? His father would be embarrassed. 

Akane ignored him. Her smile had finally faded as she turned to Ryoichi. “Your father’s closing up now. I have to go change. Get him some more tea, will you?’

“Sure thing, Mom.”

Akane dashed out of the dojo, her hands already on the belt of her gi as she disappeared from view. Ryoichi offered a hand down to Rantaro, who, surprisingly, took it as he climbed to his feet. 

“You’re not hurt?” asked Ryoichi, their hands still clasped together.

“No, I’m—” Rantaro released his grip. Patted down the front of his shirt. “I’m fine.”

“So, are you satisfied? You fought the strongest martial artist in the world.”

Rantaro shook his head. “I just don’t understand. Are you sure your dad isn’t a martial artist?”

“Positive,” said Ryoichi. “He hates it. Doesn’t even like to see me and my mom doing it. That’s why she ran to change so quick.” 

Rantaro crossed his arms. “Why does he hate martial arts so much?”

Ryoichi shrugged. “I dunno.”

* * *

_ When they were 27 _

Akane settled Ryoichi down for the night. He was nearly a year old and slept well usually. Such a happy, loving baby. But today had been a rough day. Ranma hadn’t even bothered to shower after they returned from the hospital, and was just sitting on the end of their bed in the dark, still a girl, as she entered their bedroom. She switched on the floor lamp on her side of the bed and took a seat next to him. 

“Akane,” he whispered. “It’s over.”

“I’m sorry, Ranma.”

She took his hand. It was smaller than her own. She squeezed it. His face had bandages all over, his jaw swollen and purple. But she knew he didn’t care about any of that. He was hurting in a different way.

“No more martial arts,” he said softly. “No more.”

“Ranma, if you want to give it up, I understand, but—”

“No!” He shouted. Threw her hand aside. “No more martial arts in this house at all!”

“What? What are you saying?”

“I can’t stand it! I wouldn’t be able to stand seeing it! To see you, as a martial artist, while I just sit aside like a useless lump! No more martial arts!”

“Ranma,” she said. “We run a dojo. It’s our life. It’s our livelihood.”

“We’ll figure something else out.”

“Ranma—”

He turned to her. Took her hand again. Looked her in the eyes. “Promise me, Akane.”

And just like always, whenever he said that, she gave in. 

“All right,” she said, swallowing the lump in her throat. “I promise.”

* * *

_ When they were 42 _

“You got the rest, right? I gotta pick up the twins.”

“No problem, boss.” 

Ranma grinned over at his employee and old friend, Hiroshi. When he had first started the bakery, he had worked every position himself. The second he had started to bring in any money, he had hired Hiroshi, down on his luck after a rough divorce. Mostly to do dishes, Ranma’s most hated task. Now Hiroshi was his assistant manager and a decent baker in his own right.

Ranma took a handful of individually wrapped cookies out of the display case and stuck them in the pocket of his apron before walking to the door. The little bell attached to the door made a jingle as he pulled it open, and with a sigh, he lifted his cane off of the hook on the wall and set out down the street. 

As he took a few steps onto the sidewalk, he pulled his phone out and called Akane.

“Hey. It’s me. We just closed up. I’ll grab the twins and be home in a bit.”

He listened to her warm, calm voice. His heart jumped up in his chest, even after all these years.

“Love you too. Bye.”

Ranma stuck his phone back in his pocket, the same one with the cookies. The walk to Ucchan’s wasn’t far, which was great because his leg was killing him after the long day today. He didn’t used to need his cane so often. It was every day now, though. Couldn’t even stay upright without it. 

But it was a nice spring day. They had sold completely out of cinnamon buns early on in the morning. If Akane had booked the wedding then he would get to bake a big fancy cake again. There was plenty to look forward to. 

He slid open the door to Ucchan’s _Okonomi-to-takoyaki_ and called out. “Yo!”

There was a stampede of tiny feet down the stairs, and Keiko and Mitsuo, his nine-year-old twins, bounded into view, their faces flushed and smiling. They were closely followed by Ukyo’s youngest, eight year old Sora. Ukyo finally appeared too, looking exhausted. 

“Ranchan.”

“Ucchan! Thanks for watching the kids.”

“Anytime.”

“Dad,” said Keiko, tugging on his arm. “Did you bring us cookies?”

“I feel like I’ve brought you guys too many sweets this week,” said Ranma with fake annoyance. “What happened to the brownies I brought yesterday?”

“We ate them,” replied Mitsuo. He had a more serious attitude than his sister, but shared her love of sugar. 

“Oh? Already? And you want cookies still?”

“Cookies!” cried Keiko. “Cookies! Cookies! Cookies!”

Ranma sighed, trying to hide a smile. They knew how to get what they wanted. He was still going to tease them as long as possible.

“What did I tell you guys about just chanting the name of stuff you want?”

“Cookies! Cookies! Cookies! Cookies!”

Mitsuo and Sora joined in too, all three of them marching in a circle around him, pumping their fists up and down. “Cookies! Cookies! Cookies! COOKIES! COOKIES! COOKIES!”

“All right, all right, you don’t have to scream,” said Ranma. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the cookies. “Here.”

“Yay!”

All three of them grabbed a cookie each and scurried away, sitting at a nearby table to eat their treats.

“Ranchan, the last thing those kids need is more sugar,” said Ukyo with a sigh. 

“I brought you one too,” said Ranma, grinning and handing her a chocolate chip. “And one for Aiko, if she wants it.”

“She’s not here,” replied Ukyo, accepting the cookie. “She left for university yesterday.”

“Ah, poor Kenshi, he’ll be heartbroken.” Ranma sighed and unwrapped a cookie for himself. His youngest nephew, a sweet boy who had become a professional dog trainer, had crushed on Ukyo’s eldest daughter since they were kids. Unfortunately, Kenshi had inherited the awkward trait of his father’s of not being able to speak like a normal person around the object of his affection. “And I didn’t get to say goodbye, either.”

“She’s going through a phase where she finds me, her father, and every adult we know to be extremely embarrassing.”

“Well, to be fair to her, we are all extremely embarrassing.”

“Maybe you are,” said Ukyo. “You and Akane still make out like kids when you think no one’s looking.”

“Don’t be silly, Ucchan,” Ranma said, stuffing the wrapper from the cookie in his pocket. “We know people are looking.”

She laughed and he called the kids over. The twins eagerly told Sora goodbye and followed their father outside. They spent the walk home telling Ranma about how they spent their day. Keiko did most of the talking. She was the most like Ranma out of all three of his children, although Ryoichi was his spitting image physically. Keiko kept her brown hair in two thick braided pigtails that bounced around her shoulders as she skipped. Her already large eyes looked even bigger behind her round glasses, and she was always confident and sure of herself. Mitsuo, her twin brother, was more reserved. He still had strong opinions about most things, but was already snarkier, more studious. He was the youngest child by three minutes, and did not like being called the youngest one bit. His thin black hair was starting to fall in his eyes. Normally he kept it short, but the past few months he had let it grow out.

As Ranma watched him blow his bangs out of his face for the fiftieth time on the walk home, he patted Mitsuo on the head with his free hand, the one not holding his cane. 

“You ready for a haircut, bud?”

“No way,” Mitsuo grumbled, pulling away. 

“I’m not gonna get a haircut either!” asserted Keiko. She grabbed hold of her pigtails, one in each hand, and started whirling them around. “I’m gonna grow my hair out super long and then use my braids to whip people with!”

She started flipping the ends of her braids at her brother, who took the high road and ignored her. Ranma laughed and gently separated the two. 

“Easy, kiddo.”

They were home now. The gates were open and the kids ran up the walkway and through the front door ahead of him. Ranma watched from behind, pausing. Gripped his cane tightly. Forced the pain down, out of his leg. Smiled. Continued to walk inside. 

His wife, Akane, sitting at the head of the table in the living room, along with all four of his children.

Wait. Four?

He counted heads again. Definitely four.

He pointed at Rantaro. “Who is this?”

“Ranma, don’t you recognize him?” Akane asked. She shifted her weight a little, her eyes nervous.

“Nope,” he replied, taking a seat after leaning his cane against the wall. “Ryoichi finally making friends?”

“I have plenty of friends, Dad,” said Ryoichi. “I just like spending time with my family better.”

“Aw,” said Akane.

“Gross,” said Mitsuo.

“Dad?” Rantaro echoed Ryoichi. “So that must mean—you’re Ranma Saotome?”

“The one and only,” Ranma replied with a grin. “But I still don’t know who you are.”

“I’m—”

“He said he wanted to challenge you, Dad,” interrupted Ryoichi. Every Satotome was big on interrupting, as it was hard to get a word in otherwise in this house.

“What, a bake off? Been a while. I’m up to it.”

“No!” shouted Rantaro. “Not baking! To a fight!”

“Like a fight fight?” asked Ranma. “I don’t do that.”

“My dad said you were the greatest martial artist in the world!”

“Who the hell is your dad?” asked Ranma. “Some idiot—”

“Ranma,” said Akane softly. “Doesn’t he look familiar?”

Ranma paused. Looked at Rantaro. The thick eyebrows. Furious expression. And most obviously, the bandana. 

“Rantaro?”

Ryoichi was taken aback by how weak his father’s voice sounded. As soft as his mother’s on one of her bad days. Tears behind it. And his father’s face seemed to cycle through a thousand different emotions. Grief. Guilt. Fear. Frustration. And settled firmly on anger.

“Your father is a liar and an idiot,” said Ranma. “If he’s telling you that nonsense—”

“Ranma!” Akane yelled. “Stop it! Rantaro is just a kid!”

“I’m not a kid—”

“He’s Ryoga’s kid,” Ranma shouted back to his wife. “And just as stupid as he is, obviously.”

Ryoichi felt a little bad. Rantaro didn’t seem like the brightest bulb in the box, and had, in fact attacked him right after they met, but there was actual venom behind his father’s words, in a way he rarely heard. His dad never held a grudge. Seeing him so angry at the mere mention of Rantaro’s father was scary. He felt compelled to step in. 

“Dad, come on, it’s not his fault—”

“I thought you said he wasn’t your friend!”

“He’s not, I just met him!”

“Good, then he can get the hell out!”

“Absolutely not!” Akane slammed her hands on the table. “Didn’t you see that huge pack in the corner? He obviously inherited Ryoga’s—”

She hesitated. Ranma rolled his eyes. 

“Ryoga’s what?” asked Ryoichi, having never heard the word “Ryoga” before the last five minutes. 

“Ryoga,” said Ranma. “Couldn’t find his ass in a paper bag.”

“What does that mean?” asked Ryoichi.

“I don’t know, I’m mad!” Ranma threw his hands up in the air before crossing his arms and looking away. His father spouting nonsense like that was actually a sign his anger was fading and Ryoichi felt a small wash of relief. 

“He means,” said Rantaro, depressed. “That I have a bad sense of direction.”

“Like you don’t know your left from your right?” asked Keiko, holding a mug of tea.

“Sure I do!” Rantaro snapped. He held up his right hand. “Left.” Held up his left hand. “Right.”

“Oh, sweetie,” said Akane. 

Rantaro looked down at his hands. Frowned. Crossed them. Lifted them each in turn. “Left! Right!”

Again, he had gotten it wrong. 

“Oh wow,” said Ryoichi. 

“Idiot,” grumbled Ranma. 

“Stop calling him an idiot! He’s a child!” shouted Akane.

“I was calling Ryoga an idiot!”

“Ryoga’s not here!”

“He wouldn’t be able to find the place!”

If this Ryoga guy had a bad of a sense of direction as his son, Ryoichi would have to give the win to his dad on this one. 

“Anyway,” said Akane sharply. “Rantaro, you should stay here. As long as you need. Until your dad—or mom—” She cast a glare at Ranma. “—Can come to get you.”

“All right,” said Rantaro. “I guess I am tired of sleeping in a tent.”

“Jeez, you’re not polite like Ryoga, are you?” Ranma asked, rolling his eyes.

“Ah, sorry,” Rantaro said. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “You’re right. Thank you very much for the offer.”

“He had a long day Dad,” said Ryoichi. “Me and Mom—”

He stopped. Didn’t say “kicked his ass,” although it was true. His father wouldn’t want to hear about it.

“You and Mom what?”

“Nothing, Ranma, nothing,” said Akane with an out of place laugh. “Ryoichi, why don’t you show Rantaro the guest room?”

“Sure. Come on.” 

“And Keiko, Mitsuo, go wash up and change. I know your dad gave you cookies, so you must be sticky.”

“How did you know?” asked Keiko in disbelief, wide-eyed.

"She's smart, unlike you," said Mitsuo. His sister jumped to her feet and chased him out of the room, yelling. 

Akane and Ranma were left alone. Akane moved over to sit next to him. Held his hand. “Are you all right?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked, without returning her gaze. 

"I thought it might be hard, to see Rantaro, after all this time."

Ranma shrugged. Didn't answer.

"Ranma." Akane reached up with her free hand. Stroked his hair, pushing it away from his face. He didn't have as many grays as she did, but there were still a few strands of silver tucked away in the black. “If Ryoga comes to get him, you don’t have to be here.”

“I’m not afraid of Ryoga Hibiki,” Ranma said. 

“It’s not about being afraid.”

“I just—” He took a deep breath. “Rantaro coming here really screws things up. Things were going fine. Good, even. Great.”

“I agree,” Akane replied, smiling. “But I think we were overdue for a change.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh you know there's a spotify playlist:
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2rmiDQXxPDnIfab8sR4HYo?si=9EdFZGn6QDWku2ohi2UPAw


	2. Passing of Time

_When they were 38_

“Are you still tired, Ranma?”

He looked up at Akane over his plate of food, his chin resting in his left hand. 

“Somehow I didn’t manage any sleep on the plane, again.”

“Do you want to go up to the room?”

“If we’re going to the room, it’s not to sleep,” he said, giving her a grin.

“Is that so?” Akane giggled and leaned forward. He dropped his hand and held his head up with his own strength so he could reach across the table and take his wife’s hand. He looked into her eyes, taking in every detail of her face. Her hair, pulled back with flowers. Her dress, loose and flowy and soft. What a sap he was for her, even after all this time. 

The band in the middle of the room stopped playing, and an older man in a Hawaiian shirt, his hair nearly all white, stepped up on stage and took the microphone. 

“<Hello, hello everyone, and welcome! The Kala Grand Royale is happy to be celebrating with all of you tonight! Firstly, we have some anniversaries. We have Peter and Meredith Timmerman, here on their one year! Congratulations! First year is always the toughest. Then Ranma and Akane Saotome, all the way from Japan, here on their twenty year! Incredible. And finally, Henry and Kyoko Jenkins! Forty-five years today. Absolutely amazing, here's to forty-five more!>”

“Ranma,” Akane whispered to her husband as the announcer started listing off the names of the newlyweds. “Look! It’s them!”

She nodded her head over to a nearby table where an older couple sat, smiling at each other. 

Ranma grinned. “I remember them.”

“We should go say hi.”

“All right.” 

She helped him stand, handing him his cane once he was on his feet. The two of them walked over to the table where the Jenkins were seated. The couple looked up at Ranma and Akane as they approached. 

“<Hi,>” said Akane. “<Do you remember us?>”

“<Of course we do, dear,>” said Kyoko. “<Come, sit down.>”

They pulled over chairs from an empty table and Ranma and Akane took seats beside each other, Ranma hooking his cane over the back of the chair. 

“<This is really incredible,>” said Akane. “<I never thought we’d see you two. I thought when we met all those years ago, it was just a random lucky moment of fate.>”

“<Lucky?>” asked Henry.

“<The advice you gave me—the doctor you recommended. It changed my life.>”

“<Is that so?>”

She nodded. “<Now I only have a bad day here or there. Instead of bad weeks. Or bad months. Or, like I was afraid for a little while, a bad rest of my life.>”

“<I’m glad to hear that, Akane,>” Henry said, his eyes twinkling. “<Truly.>”

“<Oh, and look— >” Akane pulled out her phone, full of pictures. “<We have three kids now!>”

Akane was always eager to show off pictures of the children. Ranma was glad they had been born before Instagram became a big thing, because Akane would have posted six thousand baby pictures a day. The twins were school age now and she still wanted to but he had put his foot down, although it killed him to deny her anything. She had called him a Luddite and he had responded that he didn’t know what that meant and that had ended the argument.

“And what about you?” Kyoko asked Ranma in Japanese. Henry and Akane had become deeply involved in their conversation at the other end of the table, talking hurriedly in English that Ranma was a bit too tired to understand. 

“I’m fine,” said Ranma. “Everything’s great.”

“Even your leg?”

He tensed up, his body stiff. He was wearing shorts, so she could see. Twenty years ago all his leg had was a scar, but it was muscular, developed. Now it was a mess. More scars. Weaker. And he had his cane, after all. 

“It’s a disaster and it hurts, but what can you do?” Ranma shrugged. 

“Did they tell you what was wrong?”

She was a surgeon, he remembered. Not like it mattered. He had gone through surgeries. A bunch of them. Only seemed to make it worse.

“A lot,” he replied plainly. “But they told me if I kept doing martial arts, they’d have to cut it off. So I stopped doing martial arts.”

“I didn’t know you were a martial artist,” said Kyoko.

“Guess it didn’t come up,” Ranma replied. “And I’m not, anymore.”

“So what do you do?”

“I’m a baker,” said Ranma. A smile started to cross his face. “Pretty good at it, too.”

Kyoko laughed. “I believe you. What sort of things do you bake?”

He told her. Told her about the bakery. About how he got started as a hobby. Then started getting paid for it after Akane had the idea to turn the dojo into an event space. How he had bought his own bakery. The first year had been slow, but now it was really successful, after he had entered a bunch of televised baking competitions and won them all handily. And he did feel happy, telling her about it. This woman he had met once, long ago. Whose husband had helped Akane. And himself. 

Eventually Akane turned back to him “Ready to go?”

They said their goodbyes. Hugged. Akane asked Kyoko to take a picture of them in the same spot she had taken one twenty years ago. And Akane took one of her and Henry as well. As Ranma and Akane walked back to the elevator, Akane kept looking down at her phone, posting the photo to instagram. 

“What should I caption this, Ranma?”

“Why do you always ask me that? I don’t know.”

“How about, ‘Talk about a throwback! Twenty years with the one I love most!’ Hashtag 乱あ.”

They stepped into the elevator. Ranma pressed the button for their floor. “乱あ?”

“It’s the hashtag I made up for us.”

“We have a hashtag?”

“Of course! We’re very popular people.”

He sighed. “If you say so.”

The elevator doors closed. Akane stuck her phone in the pocket of her dress and took his arm, humming softly. He looked down at the top of her head and smelled her hair. She was holding the same arm he used to hold his cane. His shoulder started to shake. Damn it. 

A teardrop fell. Hit the back of his hand as it gripped the top of his cane. 

Akane looked up at him and he really started crying. “Ranma? What’s wrong?”

“The first time we came here—” He shook his head. Tried to stop his tears. “I carried you up to the room. You remember?”

“Of course I do. How could I forget?”

“I can’t do that now. I can’t carry you.”

“I don’t need you to carry me.”

“But you liked it. You always wanted me to.”

“Ranma.” She smiled. Took his face in her hands as she looked up at him. “Things change. All the time. I can carry you, if you want.”

He laughed, tears still falling down his cheeks. “No thanks.”

“And besides—” She pressed her body closer to him. Tilted her hips so they met his. Slid her hands around his neck. “I know that if I jumped up and wrapped my legs around you right now, you’re still strong enough to hold me up with one arm, aren’t you?”

“Well,” he said, tilting his head to the side in consideration. “I think I could do that.”

He kissed her. His tears stopped. 

_Ding._

The elevator arrived at their floor. They parted and stepped into the hallway, but he pulled Akane’s hand and paused with her before going to their room. 

“I’m sorry, Akane.”

“For what?”

“For screwing up your life. For making you make that dumb promise. For crying like an idiot. For—”

“Hey.” She stopped him. Put a hand over his mouth. “You remember, another promise? The one I’ve kept all this time?”

“What do you mean?”

“You made me promise not to apologize for any past stuff. So I want you to promise me that starting right now, you won’t apologize for anything that happened before this moment.”

He smiled. “Okay. I promise.”

They kissed again and she led him by the hand back to their room. She insisted on testing out the theory she had presented in the elevator. 

It worked.

* * *

_When they were 42_

“Here you go,” said Ryoichi, sliding open the door to the guest room and stepping aside to make room for Rantaro. “You can put your stuff wherever. There’s plenty of room. And there’s a couple of futons in the closet you can pull out.”

“Thanks,” muttered Rantaro, stepping inside and setting down his rucksack. He paused, looking around, seeming distraught.

“You all right?” Ryoichi asked, crossing his arms as he leaned against the doorframe.

Rantaro shook his head. “This has been a very confusing day.”

Ryoichi shrugged. “We’re a very confusing family.”

“I just—” Rantaro shook his head again. “I can’t believe my dad would lie to me.”

“What exactly did your dad say about my dad?”

Rantaro took a deep breath. Sighed. Sat on the ground, legs crossed. Ryoichi, interest piqued, sat a few feet across from him.

“My dad said—Ranma Saotome was the strongest man in the world. They had been rivals since they were teenagers. But he was also a liar. A trickster. Sly and cunning.”

“Huh.” Ryoichi rubbed his chin thoughtfully. His dad could be a little sneaky, sometimes. But he was also incredibly happy-go-lucky. Even in all those baking competitions, he never took advantage of his opponents’ weaknesses. If they needed flour or sugar or an extra baking pan, Ranma would give it to them. Even gave a guy a whole layer of a cake once after theirs had burnt. Ranma had still won, of course. He always did. 

“But he didn’t mention that Ranma Saotome had children. A wife.”

“That’s weird,” said Ryoichi. “My parents have been together since they were sixteen. If your dad knew my dad back then, he had to know my mom, too.”

Rantaro shrugged. “I guess my dad left out a lot of things.”

“Well, my dad’s a really good guy, if you ask me,” said Ryoichi. “Maybe the best dad in the world.”

Rantaro squinted his eyes in annoyance. “You really love your family a lot, huh?”

“Sure,” said Ryoichi. “Don’t you love your family?”

“I guess,” said Rantaro. “But my parents are divorced. And I don’t have any brothers or sisters.”

“Ah,” said Ryoichi, a few tears coming to his eyes. “That sounds so lonely.”

Rantaro grimaced uncomfortably. “It’s fine. I see one or the other of my parents plenty, when I can find them. And my stepdad, I guess. He’s all right.”

“Still,” said Ryoichi, wiping his tears away and hopping to his feet. He smiled and stepped over to the doorway. “You’ve never experienced anything like this.”

* * *

_When they were 24_

Ryoga fell through the open front door, landing in the entryway face first, on top of all the discarded shoes. He moaned and turned to look up at a concerned Ranma leaning over him.

“Hey man. You all right?”

“Nabiki broke up with me,” Ryoga groaned drunkenly. 

Ranma tilted his head back and forth. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“Ranma!” Akane stepped forward and also leaned over, looking down at Ryoga. “Don’t say that!”

“What? They were never gonna last.”

Ryoga groaned loudly again and covered his face with his hands. “He’s right, we weren’t.”

“That’s not true, Ryoga-kun. Now tell me, what happened?”

Ryoga peeked through his fingers. “I may have—proposed.”

Ranma and Akane simultaneously winced and hissed through their teeth as they breathed in sharply. 

“What were you thinking, man?”

“I thought—I don’t know. I thought she just didn’t want me to propose in front of people. We were all alone, and I just love her so much!”

“Aw,” said Akane.

“And she just—” Ryoga threw one of his hands to the side, where the back of it landed on the wood floor with a loud slap. “She flipped! Kicked me out.”

“Well, don’t worry,” Akane said, smiling. She crouched down, bending her knees up to her chest. “I’m sure it will all work out fine. You two are meant to be.

* * *

_When they were 42_

“Wake up.”

Rantaro was being poked by the end of Ranma’s cane. He opened his eyes, expecting sunlight, but was greeted by only darkness. He blinked a few times before sitting up, letting his eyes adjust. It was still night outside and Ranma was only just barely visible, frowning at him. 

“I don’t want any freeloaders in this house. So if you’re gonna stay here, you’re coming to work with me.”

Ranma threw an apron at Rantaro’s head and turned towards the door. “Five minutes. Downstairs.”

Rantaro nodded groggily and pulled the apron off of his head with both hands. Ranma left him alone to get dressed in the dark. No one else seemed to be awake as Rantaro headed to the first floor, Ranma already in the entryway, his face set in a frown. Rantaro tied the strings of the apron behind his back and slipped on his shoes, Ranma leading him out of the door without another word. 

The streets were quiet. Rantaro shivered in the cold air, everything still damp with morning dew. The streetlamps were still glowing yellow above their heads. Rantaro pulled his cellphone out of his pocket to check the time. 4:12 AM. Ugh. 

Even with his cane, Ranma walked quickly enough that Rantaro didn’t need to adjust his pace, although he kept behind the older man. Ranma wore no coat, just a tight white t-shirt. An apron. Sweatpants and sneakers. The t-shirt revealed how muscular Ranma was, his arms huge and strong. Rantaro wondered if he really wasn’t a martial artist. Maybe he used to be.

“Here we go,” Ranma said, his tone a bit lighter than it had been in the house. The bakery was nestled among a row of other storefronts, all dark. Ranma pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocked the front door, holding it open so Rantaro could pass inside. Ranma turned on the fluorescent lights and Rantaro could see the whole place now.

Clean glass display cases. A counter with a cash register. Three small tables, two against the front window, with two chairs each. Ranma hung his cane up on a hook by the door and turned to Rantaro. To Rantaro’s surprise, he was smiling.

“Well,” said Ranma. “I guess I can have you do dishes. I’m sure Hiroshi didn’t finish them last night.”

Rantaro nodded, still feeling sleepy. Ranma led him to the back, though without his cane he noticeably limped and was slower. There was a big kitchen, full of ovens and steel tables and all sorts of things Rantaro didn’t recognize. And behind another wall, a large stainless steel sink with three basins. 

And Ranma had been right. There were a huge stack of pans, trays, bowls, and other various dishes stacked high in each basin of the sink and to the side. 

“Blah, it’s worse than I thought,” Ranma said. “Don’t worry, kid, I’ll have it out with him. But in the meantime, you can handle this, right?”

“Sure,” said Rantaro. “I can do a dish.”

“Great. I gotta get started on the cinnamon buns. The dough takes forever to rise.”

Ranma left him alone, then, heading back to the kitchen. Rantaro let out a deep sigh, pushed up his sleeves, and got to work. 

Thirty minutes in and he had hardly made a dent. Nearly every single item was covered in sugar, or frosting, or dried bits of dough, or old bits of fruit. And the drying rack was filling up. He would have to figure out where to put everything away, which he was dreading. He couldn’t even find his way around the kitchen at his mom’s house, much less a brand new place. 

He heard the bell over the front door jingle and a voice call out. 

“Morning, boss, I brought coffee—”

“Hiroshi!”

Ranma and another man appeared in the back room in front of Rantaro a moment later, Ranma holding the man by his collar. 

“Hiroshi! You left an absolute crap ton of dishes behind last night! What were you thinking?”

“Okay, sorry,” said Hiroshi, wriggling free of Ranma’s grasp “But, in my defense, I didn’t want to do them.”

“That’s not a defense,” Ranma replied, crossing his arms. “Now Ryoichi’s friend is stuck doing them!”

“I’m not Ryoichi’s friend,” said Rantaro, frustrated. 

“Why not?” Ranma turned to him, his eyebrows furrowed. He poked Rantaro firmly in the chest with one finger. “You should be! He’s amazing!”

“Uh—” All Rantaro could do was stare back blankly at Ranma’s fierce expression. He had run into all sorts of people over the years, either traveling alone or with his dad, but the aggressive supportiveness the Saotome family showed to each other was a dynamic he had never encountered before. 

"Sorry, kid," muttered Hiroshi.

"It's fine," said Rantaro. "I don't mind."

"Maybe you're polite after all," said Ranma with a somewhat approving smile. He turned back to Hiroshi, grabbing his collar again and dragging him back to the kitchen. "You, on the other hand—"

Rantaro turned back to his duty, carefully scrubbing the dishes. He had decided perhaps being polite and gracious was the way to go after all. Ranma Saotome was hiding something. Maybe a lot of somethings. And if Rantaro could figure it out, maybe his dad would be proud of him.

Around lunchtime, Ranma came over to the sink and took the hanging water spray nozzle out of Rantaro's hands and turned the faucet all the way to cold. Ranma stuck his head over the sink and blasted his head with cold water, drenching his hair.

Rantaro watched in surprise as the man in front of him shrunk nearly a foot, his tight t-shirt becoming loose and baggy around his now feminine torso.

"That's better," said Ranma, releasing the spray nozzle. "Those ovens get hotter than anything."

Rantaro said nothing, simply looked at the wet woman in front of him.

"Oh," said Ranma, noticing his stare. "This. Your dad still turns into a pig, right?"

Rantaro nodded slowly. 

"Well, same deal. I feel like you don't need any more of an explanation than that. Anyway, take a break. Time for lunch."

Rantaro followed Ranma into the front of the bakery, where they sat down at a table in front of a window. Hiroshi brought them sandwiches, the plates making a soft _clink_ as he set them down.

"Pork cutlet," said Ranma, grinning. "Pretty funny, right?"

Not really, thought Rantaro, but outwardly smiled and gave a polite laugh. A Jusenkyo curse couldn't be what Ranma was keeping secret, since he had easily changed right in front of Rantaro, not even attempting to hide it. Ranma ate too quickly and greedily for Rantaro to even think about asking questions, and when he did pause between bites it was to bark an order at Hiroshi, who sometimes obeyed, sometimes shot back with a sarcastic comment.

Ranma finished his sandwich before Rantaro, and left his plate on the table. "You can clean that up, right?"

Rantaro nodded, and Ranma left him, heading behind the counter and organizing the pastries behind the glass. Rantaro ate slowly, watching. Ranma's friendly demeanor with the multitude of customers that flowed in and out. His bossy camaraderie with Hiroshi. His exacting precision when lining up the intricately decorated cupcakes.

Rantaro shook his head. None of this was what he had expected.

* * *

_When they were 26_

Ryoga fell through the open front door, landing in the entryway face first, on top of all the discarded shoes. He moaned and turned to look up at a concerned Ranma leaning over him.

"What's wrong, bud?" Ranma asked.

"Akari filed for divorce," he moaned drunkenly.

"Well that makes sense," said Ranma.

"Ranma!" Akane walked over, cradling baby Ryoichi against her shoulder. "Don't say that!"

"What?" asked Ranma, spreading his hands out. "It was a rebound from Nabiki and they only got married because Akari got pregnant!"

"Still," muttered Akane. "You shouldn't say it."

"No, he's right," moaned Ryoga. "This is life for me. Eternal loneliness."

"Well you have a son, now," said Ranma. "You can at least be happy about that."

Ryoga smiled, looking up at his best friend's face. "That's true. No regrets there."

"See, bud?" Ranma said, extending his hand and helping Ryoga to his feet. "It will all work out."


	3. Something Has to Change

_ When they were 42 _

“How was working with Dad?” Ryoichi asked Rantaro as he took a seat next to him at the living room table.

“It was okay, I guess,” Rantaro said, shrugging, drinking from a cup of tea Akane had given him. “A lot of dishes.”

“Right,” said Ranma from his seat at the table. “But there’ll be less tomorrow. I’d let you go home early, but you’d probably get lost.”

Rantaro stared at the table, knowing he was right. 

“No problem. Just text me when you’re done and I’ll come pick you up.” Ryoichi pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. “What’s your number?”

“I should probably get it too,” Ranma grumbled. He pulled out his own phone and held it at arm’s length, squinting at the screen.

“Ranma!” said Akane. “How big is that font? When are you going to get glasses?”

“I don’t need glasses,” Ranma replied, bending his elbow to bring his phone in closer. “Glasses are for nerds.”

“Both your wife and daughter wear glasses,” said Akane in a stern tone.

Ranma grinned. “But I like nerdy girls. It’s why I married one.”

“Nice recovery,” said Akane, trying to suppress a smile. 

“Thanks.”

“I’m not a nerd anyway,” Keiko declared, slamming her teacup down.

“It’s true,” said Mitsuo, sitting next to her. “She’s never read a book.”

“And I won’t,” the young girl asserted proudly.

Ranma laughed. “I think she’s my favorite.”

“Ranma!” chided Akane. “Don’t play favorites with your children.”

“Right, right,” he sighed. “I love all my children equally.”

He cupped a hand around his face and mouthed to Keiko silently, “You are my favorite.”

She cupped a hand around her own face and mouthed back, “I know.”

“Ranma!”

“Oh, what, you can have a favorite but I can’t?”

“I don’t have a favorite!”

Ranma pointed at his youngest child. “Mitsuo.”

“Mitsuo is not—” Akane stopped. Mitsuo was absolutely her favorite, and everybody knew it. “I don’t have favorites!”

“Mom, it’s fine if Mitsuo is your favorite,” said Keiko. “Like, I get it.”

“I get it too,” said Mitsuo.

“Wait, so who’s favorite am I?” asked Ryoichi. 

“Mine!” said Keiko, giving her big brother a hug.

“Aw,” said Akane. 

“What the hell kind of house is this?” Rantaro muttered under his breath. 

“Number!” Ryoichi shouted, waving his phone in front of Rantaro’s face.

“Oh, right.” Rantaro read it out to him, and Ryoichi, Ranma, Akane, and Mitsuo all entered it into their phones.

“Wait, Mitsuo?” asked Akane. “Where did you get a phone?”

“Around,” he said, shrugging and putting it back in his pocket.

“We said no phone until you’re twelve!”

“You said you wouldn’t buy me a phone until I was twelve. I got this one with my own money.”

“What money?”

“Mine.”

“Where did you get money?!”

“I earned it.”

“Doing what?”

“Information.”

“What does that mean?”

Mitsuo shrugged. 

Ranma laughed, still messing with his phone to make sure Rantaro’s number was saved properly. “Maybe he should be my favorite.”

“Ranma!”

“Dad!”

“What? He’s got money.”

“We have money,” said Akane. “Remember? We have like three successful businesses.”

“We have some money,” emphasized Ranma. “I guess.”

“Well, I suppose we’re not as rich as Nabiki,” said Akane. “But we’re not nearly as poor as we used to be.”

“Nabiki _is_ rich,” muttered Ranma, scratching his chin and staring at the ceiling. “But so was—Ryoga. And Akari.”

He turned his attention to Rantaro, grinning widely. He snapped his fingers and pointed at the teenager. “Which means you’re rich, right?”

“Uh—my parents are, I guess,” Rantaro replied. 

“But they send you money, right? Since you’re lost all the time? Over all those fancy apps?”

“Sure, but—”

“Which means you can pay for us to get takeout sushi tonight!”

“Yes!” cried Keiko, clenching her tiny hands into excited fists. 

“Ranma, we don’t need to get takeout,” said Akane.

“Ugh, but I don’t feel like cooking tonight,” Ranma moaned.

“Then can’t you cook something?” Rantaro asked Akane.

“NO.” Every Saotome except Akane spoke in one cold voice as a crisp breeze blew through the room. 

Akane rolled her eyes. “We’re not getting takeout.”

“I’ll cook,” said Ryoichi.

“Yes! My new favorite!” Ranma grinned and pointed at his son with both hands. 

“Ranma!”

“If Rantaro would buy takeout, he would be my favorite too!”

“Absolutely not,” said Akane.

“I guess I can—help cook?” Rantaro offered tentatively. 

“Cool,” said Ryoichi, hopping to his feet. “Let’s get to it.”

* * *

_ When they were 27 _

“I hate this.” 

“I think it makes you look distinguished.”

“You mean old.”

Ranma and Akane were returning from the doctor. They had just fitted Ranma with a cane for the first time. They had tried another surgery a few months ago, but his condition had only worsened. His leg weakened. And now here he was, not even thirty, and he needed a cane to walk. The doctor had urged him to use it in his left hand, but it felt more comfortable to bear his weight down on his right side, the same side his injured leg was on. The doctor insisted it was wrong, but Ranma said it was his body and he would exercise what little control over it he could. So the doctor had relented and handed him a bunch of pamphlets which he passed off to Akane who currently had them in her purse. 

“Well, hopefully you won’t need it too much anyway,” said Akane. “Just on really bad days.”

He shrugged. Didn’t matter one way or another. This was just another thing he had to get used to. 

They rounded the corner and were surprised to see an ambulance in front of the gates. Akane tensed up and ran towards their house, pushing past paramedics to see Nodoka standing in the walkway.

Ranma couldn’t run with her, something he always regretted. He followed as quick as he could, but had missed Akane asking what was wrong. Was it Ryoichi?

“No,” said Nodoka, as Ranma came through the gates. She was holding onto Akane’s arms. “Ryoichi is fine.”

“Then what is it? What happened?”

“Akane,” said Nodoka, her eyes full of tears. “It’s your father.”

Ranma was there to catch Akane as her legs gave out. Nodoka went on to explain. He heard the words “heart attack.” And then he realized the lights on the ambulance were off. No siren. The paramedics weren’t rushing. One asked to speak with Akane, and she nodded, the color washed out of her face. 

She was an orphan. 

Ranma held her as she screamed. Cried. Fell to the ground, and he dropped his cane and sank down with her. His mother tried to comfort her too, but Akane pushed her away, clinging on to Ranma’s shirt, crying like a baby. 

He didn’t care about his leg anymore. Didn’t care about the cane. Didn’t care about the stack of pamphlets spilling out of Akane’s dropped purse, all over the ground. He held onto his wife, determined to be strong for her. He would be the one to call her sisters. Kasumi, only a few blocks away, rushing over with all three of her children. Nabiki, in America, booking a flight home as soon as possible, showing up the next morning. 

Ranma and Tofu handled the arrangements. The three sisters just couldn’t. They spent that first day together hugging each other tightly on the living room floor, and squeezed into Ranma’s and Akane’s bed together that night. Ranma slept in Nabiki’s old room instead. 

His mother helped, with Ryoichi and Kasumi’s children. Mirai. Toya. Kenshi. Genma seemed despondent. Soun had been his best friend. Ranma couldn’t imagine the kind of shape he would be in if Ryoga died. 

Ranma felt guilty that his parents were both alive and healthy and living in their house. And he could see Akane retreat. Relapse. Couldn’t get out of bed. Did the bare minimum to make sure Ryoichi was fed, bathed. And still Ranma ended up picking up most of those duties. He begged her to go back to the doctor when she had a panic attack one day right after waking up. She knew she had to go. It was so hard to make the trip. 

She watched Ranma pace back and forth in their bedroom, holding Ryoichi with one arm, his cane in the other, making soothing noises to their son. She laid there for what seemed like forever, but was in reality less than five minutes.

Akane felt a fire in her belly. She was angry. Not at Ranma. At herself for letting it get like this. This is not what her dad would want. This isn’t what she wanted! Things had to change.

She sat up. Took several deep breaths. Asked for the phone. Called the doctor. 

Eventually, and slowly, she got better.

* * *

_ When they were 42 _

“So you know how to cook at all?”

“Not really. I guess I can make stew over a campfire. It’s edible.”

“Stew it is,” said Ryoichi with a grin as he and Rantaro entered the kitchen. He opened the fridge, pulling out several items of produce, showing off a little as he tossed them in the air and caught them, one by one, behind his back. Rantaro watched quietly as the other boy set everything on the table in the middle of the room before he turned, lifting a couple of sharp knives from the magnetic strip next to the stove. He held one out to Rantaro, handle first.

“And I assume you know how to chop an onion?”

Rantaro nodded. “Well enough.”

“Well enough is all you need, when it’s stew,” Ryoichi said cheerily, picking up a potato. He began to peel it in one thin piece, spinning it around deftly in his hand as he whistled a tune to himself. 

“You cook a lot?” Rantaro asked.

“Some. Mostly when Dad’s too tired from work.”

“But you guys all acted so weird when I asked your mom to cook.”

Ryoichi set down the potato. Stared blankly ahead at nothing, as though experiencing a war flashback. “We have our reasons.”

Rantaro simply nodded, having not heard Ryoichi use such a cold tone in regards to a member of his family before. He cut through the skin of the onion Ryoichi had rolled over to him and pulled it off, setting it to the side. 

Ryoichi quickly recovered from whatever haunting memory he had gotten lost in, and grinned again. “So have you texted your mom or dad yet? Asked them to pick you up?”

“Well—” Rantaro paused. He had only texted his parents the generic life updates they usually were satisfied with. Telling them he had a warm place to sleep. Plenty of money for food. Not getting into any fights. But he hadn’t told either of them where he really was. So he lied. “My mom is out of the country, with my stepdad. Won’t be back for a month.”

“Oh? What does your mom do?”

“She raises sumo fighting pigs,” Rantaro replied.

“Huh,” Ryoichi replied, tilting his head a little. “That’s neat.”

“Is it?”

“Sure. What about your dad?”

“He—” Rantaro thought hard about this. “He doesn’t really have a job. Just sort of wanders around.”

“A deadbeat, huh?”

“No!” Rantaro slammed the knife down. His dad had a bad sense of direction, but he was anything but a deadbeat. “He just gets lost a lot! But whenever we can, we meet up! And then we travel together, until one of us gets lost again. But he’s always there when I need him.”

“Aw,” said Ryoichi. He sounded like his mother. Rantaro rolled his eyes. 

“Anyway,” Rantaro said. "Now that I can't fight Ranma Saotome, I'll have to do something else to make my dad proud."

"Your dad isn't proud of you?" Ryoichi dropped his knife in shock, the handle hitting the cutting board with a thud.

"Well—he's never said he is—"

"What?! My dad tells me he's proud of me like every day!"

"Really?"

"Yeah, of course." Ryoichi stuck his head out of the kitchen doorway and yelled down the hallway. "Dad!"

Ranma's voice returned, loud, even from far away. "What's up?"

"Are you proud of me?"

"You know it, bud!"

Ryoichi stepped back into the kitchen, flashing a grin. "See?"

"Not every family is like yours, Ryoichi," Rantaro sighed, slicing into a second onion. 

"Well, they should be." Ryoichi twirled a potato around on the cutting board, then stopped it sharply with his hand as an idea struck him. He pulled out his phone. "What's your dad's phone number?"

"Huh? Why?"

Ryoichi rolled his eyes. "Just give it."

For some reason, Rantaro found it difficult so say no. He told Ryoichi his father's number, then watched in horror as he dialed it.

"Wait, what are you—"

"I'm calling him, obviously," said Ryoichi, setting his phone on speaker as the other line began to ring.

"No!!"

Rantaro, eyes wide, tried to reach across the table to grab Ryoichi's phone, but the other boy simply spun away, holding it out of reach. 

"Hello?"

Rantaro winced at the sound of his father's voice. Ryoichi smiled and held the end of the phone closer to his mouth.

"Hi, is this Ryoga—" He looked at Rantaro and whispered, "What's your last name?"

"Hibiki," Rantaro hissed angrily, not even knowing why he answered the question.

"Is this Ryoga Hibiki?"

"Uh, yeah. This is me. Who is this?"

"Ryoichi Saotome."

"Ryo—Ryoichi Saotome?!"

"Yeah, I just said that. Anyway, question for you."

"What?!"

"Are you proud of your son?"

"What? My son?"

"Yeah, Rantaro, right?"

"That is my son. Is he—"

"Are you proud of him?"

"Of course I am! What is this about? Did Ranma put you up to this?"

"Nah. Just wanted to know if you were proud of your son."

"Obviously I'm proud of my son! Wait—is he with you?!"

"He is currently at my house, yes."

"The Tendo dojo?!"

"That's where I live."

A pause.

"I'll be there as soon as possible."

The phone let out a soft _boop_ as the call ended and the screen went dark.

"See?" asked Ryoichi, smiling at Rantaro as he put his phone back in his pocket. "He's proud of you. No need for a blood feud against my dad, or whatever."

Rantaro stared back at him in shock, mouth hanging open. 

"You just—you just called my dad?!"

"Sure. Why not? Sounds like he's on his way."

"That could take months," groaned Rantaro, turning back to the onion, shock dissipating. His dad would get here eventually. And he had answered immediately, without hesitation, that of course he was proud. That was kinda nice.

"Well," said Ryoichi, sliding sliced potatoes off the cutting board and into a waiting pot. "At least we have plenty of room for ya."

* * *

_ When they were 31 _

Akane stormed into the school, down the hallway to the vice principal’s office. Ignored the secretary and threw open the door, where her five year old son sat in a chair too large for him in front of a desk with the administrator sat behind.

“Ryoichi!” Akane cried, crouching down next to him. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

“Saotome-san,” the vice principal said, clearing his throat. “Ryoichi-kun was involved in an altercation today.” 

“An altercation?” Akane raised herself up to sit in the chair next to Ryoichi, regarding the man before her with suspicion. “What do you mean?”

“It appears he started a fight.”

“Ryoichi? My Ryoichi? He wouldn’t hurt a fly! He wouldn’t hurt an ant! He wouldn’t hurt a spider! He wouldn’t—”

“It’s not true!” Ryoichi yelled, hot tears springing to his eyes. “I only punched Kota because he kept pushing the girls off the slide and the teachers weren’t doing nothing!”

Akane focused her glare on the vice principal, eyes blazing. “Is this true? Ryoichi was simply protecting other students from some pint-sized tyrant?”

The vice principal sighed. “It’s what he claims—”

“And you would accuse him of lying? Ryoichi? He’s never lied a day in his life! Never even played pretend! Never even—”

Ryoichi held in his tears as his mother continued yelling. He played pretend plenty, but his Mama was right. He never lied. He was good. And his Mama was standing up for him, the vice principal shaking in his chair. His tiny heart filled up with warmth as she kept shouting, pounding her fist on the desk until the wood cracked. Strong Mama. 

“—and you get your act together because I will not have my son attend a school of bullies and do nothing teachers!”

Akane grabbed Ryoichi by his hand and left without another word. They walked out of the school, down the street, Akane still fuming and muttering to herself.

“Mama—”

“I can’t believe—Ryoichi? What is it?” 

Akane stopped. Crouched down so she was eye level with her son. 

“My thumb hurts.” He held up his hand, and his small thumb was swollen and purple around the bottom joint. 

“Oh no!” Akane gasped. “Did I do that when I grabbed you?”

Ryoichi shook his head. “It happened when I punched Kota.”

“Oh?” Akane tilted her head to the side. “It looks broken. We’re going to have to go see Uncle Tofu before we go home.”

Ryoichi nodded, trying not to cry. He wanted to be brave like Mama. 

“Ryoichi, you must have punched him pretty hard! Can you show me what you did? With your other hand?”

Ryoichi nodded again and balled his left hand into a small fist. He thrust it outward at the air to the side.

“Ah, thought so.” Akane smiled. Took his hand. He had his thumb tucked inside his curled up fingers. She gently pulled it out and repositioned it so it rested on top of his knuckles instead. “When you make a fist, you have to keep your thumb on the outside. That’s the first rule of—of martial arts.”

Her voice stumbled on the last bit. She pulled her hands from Ryoichi and looked away.

“Martial arts?” asked Ryoichi. “Like Grandpa Panda does?”

The smile reappeared on Akane’s face. “Yeah. Like Grandpa Panda.”

Ryoichi paused, biting his lip. “Do you know martial arts too, Mama?”

The smile Akane wore turned sad. “Yes.”

“Will you teach me?”

Akane stood. Looked down at Ryoichi. 

Ranma was her husband. The love of her life. She had made him a promise. 

But her son was more important. 

“Yes,” she said. “I will.”


	4. The Future Freaks Me Out

_When they were 42_

"Finished already, huh?"

Rantaro nodded, letting the front door of the bakery swing shut behind him. He had finished the dishes just before lunch and texted Ryoichi to come get him. Ranma had been almost nice to him today. Still bossy, but Rantaro figured the guy was sort of his boss now.

"Yeah. There wasn't a two day buildup like before."

"Oh yeah," said Ryoichi. "My dad and Hiroshi hate doing dishes. I've been telling him to hire someone else since forever."

"You don't wanna do it?" Rantaro asked, making sure he stayed in step with Ryoichi.

Ryoichi spread his hands out, palms up. "Do these look like the hands of a man that performs hard labor?"

"You do have a lot of calluses. And when I first met you, you were sweeping."

Ryoichi laughed. "Okay, you got me. I also hate doing the dishes. The only one in the house that likes it is my mom."

Rantaro thought back to the night before, when Akane had disappeared after dinner for nearly an hour. So she couldn't cook, but she did clean.

"An opening!"

Ryoichi looked up sharply at the sound of the strange voice. Instinctively, he threw an arm straight out in front of Rantaro, grabbing him and jumping back several feet. Rantaro watched in amazement as a flock of objects struck the ground where they had been standing, embedding deep into the concrete. 

Rantaro blinked in realization over Ryoichi's shoulder. "Acupuncture needles?"

Ryoichi let out a large sigh and dropped his arm.

"It's my cousin," he said. "Mirai."

"You are correct!"

A figure, standing on the awning of a nearby building, was silhouetted by the sun behind them. They shifted, and the light moved so Rantaro could see their face. A young woman, in skinny jeans and an oversized sweatshirt, crossing her arms and grinning down at them. She had a trendy haircut, clipped short on the sides and in the back, with a thick mass of wavy curls falling down in the front. Her large round glasses glinted in the sun as she turned her head.

With a deep breath, she leapt into the air, backflipping, landing on her feet in front of the two boys in a ready stance.

"It is I, Mirai Ono, master of the Anything Goes School of Martial Arts—"

"She's not," said Ryoichi to Rantaro.

"And the strongest martial artist in the world—"

"She's not," Ryoichi said again.

"Returning from my most recent training trip to claim my true place as leader of the Tendo dojo!"

"You know we mostly use it for weddings now, right?"

"Ryoichi! You still doubt me and my power?"

"Yeah," said Ryoichi. "Of course I do!"

"You're a fool to underestimate me!"

"You're the only fool here!" Ryoichi pulled down one of his eyelids and stuck his tongue out at her.

Mirai gritted her teeth and launched herself at him. Rantaro expected the two of them to have a proper spar, but it somehow ended up with the two of them grappling with each other on the ground, her arms around his neck, fighting as if they were children.

"You'll never beat Mom like this!" Ryoichi shouted, sliding out of her grasp and reversing positions so her head was trapped in the bend of his elbow.

"You're fifty years too early to defeat me!" Mirai cried. She grabbed on to his forearm with both hands and bent at the waist, flipping Ryoichi forward so he landed on his back on the sidewalk. 

But he had grabbed onto the fabric of her sweatshirt, and the momentum caused her to flip over him, landing on her back as well. They both leapt to their feet and started circling each other in ready stances.

"Hey! _Hey!_ What have I told you two about fighting in front of my shop?!"

An angry looking man had emerged from the closest storefront, frowning and crossing his arms. Ryoichi and Mirai immediately dropped their hands and bowed, looking ashamed.

"For years! Last time the two of you broke my front window!"

"Sorry," mumbled Ryoichi, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Yeah, sorry," Mirai also mumbled in agreement.

"Get out of here! You know how pissed your dad will be if he has to pay for another piece of sheet glass?!"

"You're right, you're right, we'll go!"

Mirai and Ryoichi started to scurry away, forgetting completely about Rantaro.

"Hey!" Rantaro yelled, running after them. He luckily caught up before they were out of sight.

"Who's this jabroni?" Mirai asked, pushing her glasses up as the three of them walked along.

"Jabroni?" Ryoichi frowned.

"Yeah. New word I learned. You like it?"

"No."

"Anyway," Mirai said loudly. "Who are you, kid?"

"Rantaro."

"Rantaro? Why does that sound familiar?" Mirai looked up, scratching her chin. She hit her open palm with her fist, making a soft _pap_. "The baby. Uncle Ranma's friend."

"Dad was friends with a baby?"

"No, idiot," replied Mirai. "The baby's dad was his friend."

"That's what Mom said, too."

"Why did they stop being friends?" Rantaro asked.

Mirai kept walking. Smiled, but it seemed sad.

"I dunno," was all she said.

They arrived at the Tendo dojo and walked into the living room. Akane was sitting there, drinking a cup of tea. At the sight of the three of them, she broke into a large smile.

“Mirai-chan! How great to see you again!”

“Don’t call me Mirai-chan, Aunt Akane! I’m twenty-three years old!”

“Oh, but you were the cutest little baby—”

“I’m a grown woman now!”

“Yes, but as a baby, you were so—” Akane looked up at the ceiling, searching for the most polite word. “Quiet.”

“Anyway!” Mirai shouted, clenching her fists. “I’m here for a—”

“She’s here for a challenge fight,” said Ryoichi in a flat tone. 

“He’s right!” Mirai pointed one finger at her aunt dramatically. “I’m ready this time. For you to finally acknowledge me as proper heir.”

Akane shrugged. Adjusted her glasses. “Okay.”

Rantaro frowned as Akane stood and patted the front of her clothes. Mirai grinned triumphantly. 

“Yes! It’s finally going to happen!”

“It won’t,” said Ryoichi. 

“I’m going to change real quick,” said Akane. “Meet you in the dojo?”

“You got it!” Mirai shouted, giving her a thumbs up. 

Rantaro followed Ryoichi and Mirai out to the dojo curiously. He took a seat next to Ryoichi, who looked bored, as Mirai started performing warm up stretches. He was eager to see Akane fight again. Although Akane was older and shorter than Mirai, she had also been older and shorter than himself. And had beat him without breaking a sweat. 

“Okay, I’m ready!”

Akane, in her gi, in the entrance of the dojo. The same warm smile from earlier. But as she approached Mirai, she didn’t keep her hands behind her back. Instead, she stretched them over her head, and tilted her head back and forth, her neck popping. The two women met in the middle of the room and Mirai spread her feet apart, a little too wide. 

“All right, begin, or whatever,” Ryoichi said, giving a half hearted wave. 

Rantaro watched as Akane, still smiling, adopted a ready stance. Which meant she took Mirai at least somewhat more seriously than she had him. 

And she was right to do so. Mirai dashed forward, a blur, so fast Rantaro couldn’t tell if she was punching or kicking. He did see as Akane leapt in the air, her hands closing into fists, somersaulting forward and landing on her feet behind her niece. But Mirai had already turned, mid strike, sending her foot out in the direction of Akane’s head. Akane lifted her forearm and blocked it, before twisting her hand around at the wrist and grabbing Mirai just below the knee. With just one arm, she lifted Mirai off the ground and threw her to the side. 

Mirai was unable to land on her feet, so hit the ground with her palms, sending herself into a backflip. And before she could turn again, Akane was behind her, driving her elbow into her ribs. Mirai doubled over and Rantaro winced reflexively. 

Mirai hunched her shoulders, bent near the ground, and started crying. “Not fair, Aunt Akane! Not fair!”

Akane rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to fall for it, Mirai-chan.”

Mirai snapped out of her crocodile tears and whirled on her aunt. “I said don’t call me that!”

She lunged at Akane’s ankles, but Akane just jumped back, out of her reach. Mirai’s momentum caused her to stumble forward and fall on the ground with a _thump_ , her butt sticking in the air.

Akane calmly sat on her niece’s shoulders, leaning against Mirai’s angled back, and crossed her legs. “Are you done?”

Mirai struggled, but Akane’s body weight kept her arms pinned to the ground. She turned her head to the side, flat against the floor. 

“Fine,” she muttered, pouting. “You win. This time.”

“Good.” Akane smiled. Hopped up to her feet. Offered her hand down to Mirai, who rolled over and grabbed it. Akane pulled her up to her feet and patted her on the shoulder. “Now, you want some tea?”

“Yeah,” Mirai sighed. “But one of these days, I’ll beat you.”

Akane patted her niece’s cheek gently. “No you won’t.”

Rantaro watched the two women walk out together, completely flummoxed. The speed and strength Mirai had displayed had been incredible. Was everyone in this family a better fighter than he was? And Akane had still beaten her, easily, although with more effort than it had taken her in the fight against Rantaro. 

His father had trained him since he was little. He had spent his early puberty punching boulders on top of a mountain. And he couldn’t hold a candle to anyone related to Ranma Saotome. Who was just some goofy baker, not even a martial artist! What the hell was this place? Were there steroids in the cupcakes?

“That played out pretty much how I expected,” said Ryoichi, yawning. He rose to his feet, and Rantaro stood with him. “But I gotta hand it to Mirai, she will not give up.”

“She wants to run the dojo?” Rantaro asked. 

“Yeah,” said Ryoichi. “But Mom only teaches like two classes a week here anyway. If it gets used at all, it’s for practice. Or events. So I don’t know what Mirai thinks she would be running.”

“You don’t want to run the dojo?”

“Nah. I love martial arts, but there’s something else I wanna do.”

“Really? What?”

Ryoichi’s eyes sparkled as he grinned. “I’m gonna be the world’s most famous writer.”

“Really? You like to write? I thought—”

“Thought what?”

“Well, your sister said she’s never read a book.”

“Oh, yeah, but that’s Keiko. She’s like Dad.” Ryoichi hesitated. “Now that I think about it, I’m not entirely sure Dad can read.”

Rantaro laughed. This shocked both boys, who froze in place. 

“Wow,” said Ryoichi. “So you have a sense of humor after all.”

“I have a sense of humor,” said Rantaro grumpily. “I just don’t think you’re funny.”

“But you just laughed at my joke!”

“Don’t get used to it.” 

“Oh, so it’s a challenge then?” asked Ryoichi, smirking. “Fine, it’s now my mission in life to say something that makes you laugh, every single day.”

“I get lost a lot. It’s not like I’ll see you every day.”

“Then I’ll text you.”

“This is stupid.”

“Oh yeah,” said Ryoichi. “But it’s also going to be very funny.”

* * *

_When they were 27_

Mirai arrived at the dojo on Saturday, wearing her new gi. Her mother had let her walk all by herself, since she needed to stay at home with Toya and Kenshi and her father had a bunch of appointments all afternoon. She skipped going into the house and headed right for the dojo itself, doing warm up stretches in the middle of the floor. 

“Mirai-chan?”

Mirai turned, pushing her glasses up her nose. The curly hair she had bound into a ponytail on top of her head bounced with the motion. “Auntie Akane! I’m here for my lesson with Uncle Ranma.”

“Oh.” Her aunt looked so sad. “Mirai-chan, didn’t your mother tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“No more martial arts.”

Her Uncle Ranma, stepping up to the doorway. He was frowning. She had never seen him look like that. 

“What do you mean?” asked Mirai.

“I’m not teaching martial arts anymore. We’re not having martial arts here, ever again.”

“What are you talking about?!” Mirai stomped her foot. “This is a dojo!”

“I don’t care!” Ranma yelled. His booming voice echoed throughout the room. Mirai winced. She had never heard him yell, not really, not like that. 

“Ranma—” Auntie Akane, trying to calm him. 

“Go home, Mirai,” Ranma said, his voice soft again. 

Mirai tried to hold back the tears welling in her eyes. She ran past her aunt and uncle, out of the dojo. Stopped halfway down the walkway, her feet skidding in the dirt. Turned around to face the two adults, her uncle angry, her aunt sad. 

“I’m gonna get better!” she screamed in her tiny voice. “I’m gonna be the best martial artist you’ve ever seen! Better than you and Auntie Akane! And then I’ll take this dojo and do whatever I want with it!”

“Go home, Mirai!” Ranma shouted again, and Akane tried to put her arm across his chest, soothe him.

Mirai turned again. Ran home as fast as she could. Started yelling at her mother. Kasumi held her as she cried. Tried to explain, tell her that Uncle Ranma was hurt. Not just his leg, but inside. Give him time. He would change his mind.

He never did.

* * *

_When they were 42_

“You excited about school, bud?”

Ranma was currently deboning a chicken on the kitchen counter, expertly sticking the knife in between the joints as he pulled the bird apart. Mitsuo stood quietly next to the table, fiddling with his hands. Ranma was surprised when his youngest had asked to help with dinner. Mitsuo had always seemed to prefer Akane’s company, talking about school with her or showing her something from one of his games. 

Mitsuo shrugged. 

“You know, I was surprised you offered to help. I thought maybe you were trying to get something out of me, like a new GameBoy or whatever.”

“They don’t make GameBoys any more, Dad.”

“I guess not,” said Ranma. “Wouldn’t know. Your mom’s the nerd, not me.”

“She doesn’t like video games.”

“She likes it when you show her yours.”

Mitsuo nodded. That was true. Akane was always genuinely interested in what her kids were doing. 

“But, I guess you have your own money, now. Don’t need your old man, any more, huh?” Ranma smiled. Mitsuo was much more mature even than Ryoichi, tidy and completing his schoolwork on time and keeping his grades up 

“I still need you, Dad,” Mitsuo said, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Ranma set the knife down. Turned to his son. “You okay, kiddo?”

“Dad,” Mitsuo said, looking down at the floor. “What is it like when—”

He paused. Closed his mouth.

“When what?”

“What’s it like when you turn into a girl?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you like it?”

“Well,” Ranma said, scratching his chin thoughtfully. “I used to hate it. Having the wrong body was really upsetting. I’m a guy, but people saw me as a girl. But I got used to it, I guess. Now sometimes I like it. It’s just part of me.”

“Dad, what if—”

Mitsuo screwed his face up. His bottom lip quivered. 

A sudden realization hit Ranma. He walked around the table. Crouched down so he was eye level with Mitsuo. 

“What if what?”

“Dad, I feel like—I feel like—I don’t like that people see me as a boy! I hate it! I want—I want—” 

Mitsuo looked up at Ranma, staring him in the eye. Ranma just stared back, waiting. 

“I’m a girl!”

Ranma reached out. Set one hand on Mitsuo’s shoulder. Pulled her close, against his chest. “All right.”

Mitsuo started crying, finally, holding tightly onto her father’s shirt. Ranma didn’t stop her, letting her go on and on, knowing the pot of water for the noodles was about to boil over. Mitsuo stopped crying, after a long while. Pulled back, sniffling, wiping her nose. 

“Is it okay, Dad?’

“Sure,” said Ranma. After everything he had been through in his whole life, no one understood better than he did. Well, maybe someone. “You know me and Mom’s friend Toshiko?”

“The doctor?”

“Yeah. I think we’ll call her in a little bit.”

“Why?”

“She has a little more experience with this than I do.”

“Okay.”

“Is it all right if I tell Mom?”

“Yeah.” Mitsuo nodded. “And can I ask something else?”

“Sure.”

“Can you call me Mitsuko?”

“Mitsuko? Really?” Ranma, who had once gone by Ranko, grinned. “Not the most original, but okay.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Can I tell you a secret, Mitsuko?”

“What is it?”

“I always wanted three daughters.”

“Really?”

Ranma nodded and stood, turning the heat down on the stove and moving the bubbling pot. “Yeah. But I guess two out of three will have to do.”

* * *

_When they were 39_

“I think you look distinguished.”

“You mean I look old!”

Akane sat in front of the vanity in their bedroom, fidgeting with her new glasses while looking in the mirror. They changed the shape of her face completely. Her eyes looked larger. The frames were semi-transparent tinted plastic. Trendy. Modern. 

She sighed. She felt like a grandmother.

“It’s bad enough I have all this gray hair,” she moaned. “Now I need glasses, too?”

“You’ve had gray hair since Ryoichi was born,” Ranma said, massaging his leg as he sat on their bed. “You’re just complaining now?”

“Gray hair and glasses,” Akane sighed. “And I’m not even forty!”

Ranma smiled. “You could get contacts, like Nabiki did.”

She turned around in her chair, a look of horror on her face. “And have to touch my eye? Every day? Multiple times? Just sticking my finger in there? No thanks!”

He laughed. Lifted his other leg up on the bed as he leaned against the headboard. “I never knew you were so vain, Akane.”

“Me?” She pouted. Stood up and joined him on the bed, reclining against the pillows. “You’re the vainest guy I ever met.”

“Nonsense. I let my gray hairs show. I’m proud of them.”

“You only have like three,” Akane sighed. “And it’s different for men. They always get better looking as they get older.”

“So you think I’ve gotten better looking?” Ranma grinned.

Akane frowned and stuck her tongue out at him. “See? You’re the vain one!”

“Yeah, maybe. But, I mean—” He gestured at himself, waving one hand up and down his body. “Come on. It’s not for no reason.”

Akane sighed. Rolled her eyes. But she smiled through her exasperation. “Ranma! You don’t get it! I just feel—old. I have three kids. Gray hair. Glasses. Wrinkles! I have wrinkles!”

Akane barely had any wrinkles. Delicate crows feet around her eyes. Laugh lines around her mouth. Signs of a life full of smiling. 

Ranma scooted over. Put his arms around her. Lifted one hand. Touched her glasses on the side, moving them just a little. “I think they’re cute.”

Akane blushed. She still blushed when he called her cute, after all this time. “Really?”

“Yeah, of course. They’re on my wife, who is cute. Everything you do is cute.”

She blushed even more. “Ranma. You’re such a flirt.”

“Sure,” he said. “But it’s okay to flirt with my wife, isn’t it?”

She touched his face. Stroked his cheek with her fingertips. Her eyes really did look huge behind her glasses. 

“Yes,” she said. “It is.”

She kissed him. He kissed back, tilting his head. Deepened the kiss a little more.

And then her glasses bumped into his nose, smushing against her face painfully. 

“Ah! Ranma!”

“It’s not a big deal! Just take them off with the rest of your clothes!”

“Ranma!”

“Okay, leave them on! But still, take off your clothes!”

“Ran-ma!”

Eventually, though, she did just that.


	5. Lights Inside the House

_ When they were 42 _

Ryoichi buttoned the front of his school uniform. Took one last look in the mirror to check his hair. Grinned. _And let’s go._

The grade school started earlier than high school, so he no longer had to walk with the twins in the morning. Rantaro was at the bakery with his father, and his mother decided the first day of school was a great day to do spring cleaning, since everyone else would be out of the house. 

He was so excited that he broke into a run halfway to the school. His uniform jacket pulled tight at his neck, so he unbuttoned the top button as he continued his quick pace. Maybe it would look cooler this way, even.

There were a lot of students outside the gates of Furinkan High. Plenty of familiar faces, from his junior high school. A lot of older students he didn’t know. And as he rounded the gates to enter the schoolyard, he was jumped, falling to the ground.

“Ryoichi-kun!” 

His friends, Sakura and Takeshi, on top of him, hugging him and crying. The two of them had been a couple since they were practically in diapers, and somehow both had ended up in the same class as Ryoichi throughout their entire school lives. 

“Hey guys,” Ryoichi said, laughing and sitting up. 

Takeshi tightened his grip around Ryoichi’s torso, pressing his head into the other boy’s chest. “We haven’t seen you in so long! We thought you forgot about us!”

“So cruel, Ryoichi-kun!” Sakura moaned, her arms around Ryoichi’s stomach. “Not even a text! Not even a snap! Not even a tweet!”

“It’s only been a week,” said Ryoichi good-naturedly. “Come on, let’s get up. We’re high schoolers now!”

The three teens climbed to their feet together. Their fellow students from junior high didn’t bother to stare at them, used to this behavior. But what Ryoichi found curious was that the older students, the ones he didn’t know, also didn’t look over. Seemed unfazed. 

“What class are you in, Ryoichi-kun?” Takeshi asked.

“1-F.”

“Same!” Sakura and Takeshi cried together in joy, clasping their hands together. 

“The streak continues,” replied Ryoichi. They started walking up to the front doors together.

“I think I’m going to join tennis club this year,” said Sakura. “I got pretty good last summer.”

“I’m going to stick with track,” Takeshi said. “What about you, Ryoichi-kun? Kendo again? Gymnastics? Judo?”

Ryoichi shrugged. “One of those. And Literature Club. I hear they also do creative writing.”

“Ryoichi-kun!” Sakura smiled up at him, her eyes bright. “Finally following his dream of being the world’s greatest writer.”

“Well, I thought it was about time—”

_ WHHHRRCHOPPATACHOPPATACHOPPATACHOPPATA— _

An immense wind whipped through the school yard, causing skirts to fly up, papers to fly away, hair to fall out of carefully sculpted styles. Ryoichi grabbed the back of his head to make sure his own bun was still in place as he looked up at the sky. 

There was a black helicopter hovering just above the roof of the school. 

“What the hell?” asked Takeshi, shouting over the noise. “Are we being attacked or something?!”

A rope ladder was thrown out of the helicopter, unrolling as it descended, the bottom rung resting finally a few feet above the ground. The ladder swayed slightly as the helicopter continued hovering. Ryoichi’s gaze traveled upwards to see a young man emerge from the helicopter, posing valiantly on the top rung of the ladder.

As the boy began his climb down, Ryoichi got a better look at him. He was tall, broad shouldered, with a thin, long nose and had thick, wavy hair. He also had a determined expression on his face, but oddest of all, he was barefoot, wearing a traditional hakama. 

The boy reached the bottom rung, hopping to the ground, less than a meter away from the trio. Ryoichi watched as the boy grabbed his hakama by the front, straightening it, before running a hand through his hair. The ladder was pulled back up, and the helicopter quickly ascended, disappearing into the blue sky. 

Ryoichi leaned over to Takeshi, jabbing backwards with his thumb at the strange young man. “Who’s this jabroni?”

Takeshi shook his head. “I have no idea.”

“You would have my name?”

Ryoichi looked up, realizing the boy was speaking to him. “Well, sure. I’m Ryoichi—”

“No need for that. Surely you may have heard my name by now. I was the national youth kendo champion for the past three years, known to my fellow students at Saint Miao’s as the Golden Rose.”

“Golden Rose?” Ryoichi muttered. 

“Indeed. And now, I finally have the chance to attend the school of my father. And claim my rightful place as kendo captain here, and become the Golden Rose of Furinkan High.” The boy stared firmly at Ryoichi. “I am Nobunaga Kuno, age sixteen.”

“Nobunaga?” asked Sakura quietly. “Like the warlord?”

“Who better to carry on the name of such a powerful man?” said Nobunaga Kuno, age sixteen, as he tilted his head to the side and smiled arrogantly. “I am sure I am worthy of his legacy.”

“Is that a legacy you want, though?” asked Takeshi.

“Was Oda Nobunaga not a powerful kendo master in his own right?”

“Uh—” Ryoichi frowned. History was his worst subject. After math. “Maybe?”

“Well, Ryoichi is good at kendo too!” shouted Takeshi. “Probably better than you!”

Ryoichi sighed. Takeshi was always managing to get Ryoichi into fights he didn’t want to participate in. He had a skill.

“Is that so?” replied Kuno. He stepped up closer, looking down at Ryoichi with interest. “Then perhaps we should have a duel, then.”

“What, now?” asked Ryoichi. “It’s the first day of school.” 

“After the day has concluded. We shall meet in the kendo clubhouse.”

“Fine,” Ryoichi sighed. Guess he was joining kendo club this year after all.

“Very well,” nodded Kuno. “The time is set. Farewell.”

And then he leapt away, seemingly disappearing into thin air as something struck the ground at Ryoichi’s feet. 

Ryoichi bent down. Picked it up.

“A golden rose,” he said, twirling the stem between his fingers. “It’s a little—heavy handed, isn’t it?”

“Who was that Tuxedo Mask acting weirdo?” Sakura asked, stepping up next to him and taking the rose. “And where did he go?”

Ryoichi looked around the schoolyard. There was no sight of Kuno, anywhere. And while his former junior high classmates were staring at him, wide-eyed, once again the older students seemed unperturbed, continuing their conversations as if nothing had happened. 

The warning bell chimed and everyone began to file into the building. Sakura handed the rose back to Ryoichi as she joined hands with Takeshi to head inside. Ryoichi kept looking down at the rose as he followed them upstairs to their new classroom. Took a seat near the back of the room and looked out of the window. 

He had gotten himself into quite a pickle, here. A kendo match with the national champion on the first day of school. Why couldn’t things ever go normally for him? Probably nothing like this had ever happened to his father when he went here. 

As their teacher entered the room, Ryoichi let out a deep sigh. Leaned down and pulled his favorite book out of his bag, a beat up hardcover of Pride and Prejudice. For some reason, pressed the rose inside, between the pages, flattening the petals and leaves.

Well, it did at least look nice.

* * *

_ When they were 32 _

Ranma dunked his head under the cold water in the sink at the bakery one more time before leaving for the day. It was the middle of summer and the ovens were going to burn his skin off. He hung up his apron since it was just too heavy to wear in the heat and walked home in his tanktop. They had made his cane easy to adjust to account for his frequent switching of heights, but he felt pretty good today. Only a little lingering soreness. He still had his limp, he always had his limp, but he was able to bear his own weight, hooking his cane over his forearm as he left the bakery. 

The sun was obnoxious. It was still early afternoon, but Ranma just couldn’t take being inside anymore. Maybe he could go home, have a late lunch with Akane and Ryoichi. Surprise them. He thought about little Ryoichi’s face lighting up as he came through the door and smiled. That kid was great. 

“I’m home!” 

Ranma took off his shoes and waited by the door expectantly. No one came to greet him. Maybe they had gone to run an errand? But the door had been open. He went into the living room. Not there. The kitchen. Not there. The bathroom. Not there. Limped upstairs, cursing. Ryoichi nor his mother were up there either. Limped back downstairs.

There was a distant, faraway sound. A yell. Not of scream, or panic. Ranma recognized it. His heart sunk out of his chest and landed in his stomach. He snatched up his cane, needed the support. Stormed out of the back door. Down the walkway. 

The yells were louder now. His heart ignited in his belly, causing fiery anger to rise back up through him, all the way into his face. 

Ranma grabbed the latch of the dojo door. Threw it open. And saw exactly what he was hoping never to see again in his life. 

Akane, standing in the middle of the room, wearing her old yellow gi.

And then, next to her, Ryoichi, in his own small, crisp white gi.

Akane straightened her posture in shock. Ranma saw all the color drain from her face.

“Ranma,” she said, her voice shaking. “We were just—”

“We were doing martial arts, Papa,” said Ryoichi. “It’s fun!”

Ranma clenched his jaw. Glared at his wife. 

Akane patted Ryoichi on the shoulder. Leaned down. “Ryoichi, I’m going to need you to go up to your room for a little bit, okay?”

“Huh? Why?”

“Just do it. I’ll tell you in a little while.”

Ryoichi, ever obedient, nodded and ran out of the dojo. Ranma just barely moved aside, looking down at his son as he passed with a look of hatred so intense Ryoichi would never forget it. The little boy kept running, into the house, the back door slamming shut behind him.

And Akane and Ranma were left alone. Akane still in her stupid gi. 

“Ranma, listen—”

He stepped inside. Slid the door shut. “I’m listening.”

“I just—I—he asked, Ranma! He asked to learn!”

He glared back at her. “You made a promise!”

“I know!” There were tears forming in her eyes. He wasn’t going to let those melt his heart. Not this time. “I know! But he’s my son and he asked and Ranma! This is a dojo! This a dojo that’s always, always been part of my life!”

“Like martial arts weren’t part of my life?” he shouted, storming up to her. He was so upset Akane was taller than him like this. It made his anger feel impotent, which enraged him more. “You think you’re the only one who devoted their life to carrying on this stupid school?!”

“I'm sorry,” Akane whispered. She held her hands out, her palms up. Just kept opening and closing her fingers as she stared at them. Watching the muscles expand, contract. “I’m so sorry. I just—I know you can’t. I know you can’t anymore. I shouldn’t have broken my promise. And I shouldn’t have lied to you.”

Her knees buckled and she collapsed to the floor, leaning forward, her palms flat on the wood. She started crying for real now.

“You shouldn’t have.” Ranma tried to stay firm. Girls crying didn’t upset him as much as it used to, but Akane crying still did. 

“I’m a bad wife,” she whispered. She brought her hands up, covering her face, her fingers digging into the skin of her cheeks. “I’m sorry. Please don’t hate me.”

Ranma closed his eyes. He knew she wasn’t saying it to manipulate him. She was genuinely terrified of him hating her and always had been. And every time he thought she had gotten better, gotten over it, felt confident about the two of them, something would happen and she would withdraw. Pull away from him. Last time it happened was when her dad died. 

Her dad. No wonder she was so desperate to carry on. Ranma hadn’t considered that before. Because he was the selfish jerk. What had he been thinking?

_ Damn it, Akane. Even when you do something wrong you’re doing the right thing. _

Ranma took a few steps over to her. Sat down next to his wife. She didn’t look up at him, just silently cried behind her fingers. 

“Akane,” he said. “I feel like I’ve told you this before, but I’ll tell you over and over again. As many times as it takes. You can never, ever, do anything to make me hate you.”

She paused, her shoulders no longer shaking with sobs. Still didn’t look up at him.

“I’ll love you until we’re old and gray. No matter what.”

Akane remained quiet, trying to steady her breathing behind her hands. She already was gray, a little. “But I shouldn’t have—””

“Yeah, I’m mad,” said Ranma. “Pissed. Furious! But that doesn’t mean—oh no.”

She looked up at him, finally, lowering her hands into her lap. He had paused, and was now staring straight ahead at the wall. “What is it?”

“I’m my dad,” he said in soft realization. “I didn’t want to be, but I am. I’m my dad, just—reversed. Flip-flopped.”

“Oh no, Ranma,” Akane said. “You’re not.”

“I am. He never gave me a choice to do anything other than martial arts. And what did I do? Took that choice away from my son. And my wife. It wasn’t right. It was shit. I shouldn’t have made you make that promise, Akane.”

“Ranma, I—” She didn’t know what to say. Turned around to face him. “I understand. I can’t imagine how much it hurts to not be able to do what you used to do.”

“That’s the thing,” he said. “I think I would be able to.”

“What?” Akane asked, confused.

“You know I still workout every day. I’m still strong. I’m still fast. I just—I can’t do everything. But I could do most things. It’s just, I know that if I do—I have consequences, now, Akane. I have to think about the consequences, because I’m an adult with a wife and a son and a business to run and you know that day? The day the doctors told me to stop?”

Ranma was rambling, so she just nodded.

“I was fighting that guy, I don’t even remember his name. And then he got in a couple of pretty good hits, nearly broke my jaw. And then you! Came out of nowhere and saved me! Beat that guy when I couldn’t! And you had just given birth!”

“Ryoichi was already three months old—”

“But you were a new mother! The mother of my child! And you were fighting some guy I couldn’t, all because martial arts, stupid lousy martial arts, had put us in that position! And I thought, I couldn’t bear to see what happened to me happen to Akane and Ryoichi. My wife and son. I thought—I don’t know. I could protect you, if martial arts weren’t part of our lives. We could be normal. Safe.”

He was done. Finally. 

Akane and Ranma remained sitting there, in the middle of the floor of the Tendo dojo, both of them exhausted. An image from half a lifetime ago floated through his head, of when he and Akane had faced each other like this after a day at the ice rink, sitting on their knees, hands in their laps. How they had flirted and teased and somehow goaded each other into almost kissing. He should have followed through then. He had always been a lousy coward.

“Ranma,” Akane said, still looking down at the floor. He watched her fingers curl up into the fabric of her gi, her knuckles turning white. And then, sharply, she looked up at him, eyes blazing. “You idiot!”

He blinked. “Huh?”

“You’ve always been so overprotective! I can protect myself! Haven’t I shown you that, over and over? I’m tough! And Ryoichi’s tough, too! He’s good, Ranma! And one day he’ll be as good as you! So stop trying to hide us from the world!”

The corner of Ranma’s mouth was pulling upwards, into a smile. Akane was mad at him. Furious. Full of beautiful fire and incandescent rage. Just like she should be. Burning brighter than the sun. And she was—

“You’re right,” said Ranma.

“I am?” Akane blinked, her anger paused, still buzzing behind her breastbone. 

“Yeah. You’re right. I’m a jerk.”

“You sure are,” she grumbled, but shifted her gaze away. 

“You should teach him, Akane. You should go back to teaching, anyway. This is a dojo.”

“But Ranma—”

“You were always a better teacher than me. It’s only right.”

“That’s not true,” she said, her anger nearly completely gone. “You were great.”

“Well, maybe,” Ranma said, his smile now full across his face. And then, it faded all at once. “But Akane—”

“What?”

“I can’t—I can’t help you. I can’t help you teach. I can’t help you train Ryoichi. I can’t hear about it. I can’t see it. Because—it does hurt. It hurts, Akane.”

He refused to cry. He knew Akane wouldn’t judge him. She would comfort him. And he knew that she would know him well enough that he meant not only his leg, but his soul. Although his leg really did hurt, pretty much all the time. More than he had ever told her. She still knew. 

“Okay, Ranma,” Akane said. “I understand.”

Of course she did. He didn’t know yet that she would work it out so that she only taught two classes a week, or train Ryoichi, only when he was at the bakery, out of the house. That she would somehow grow even stronger than she already was, and Ryoichi was so much like him in the way he fought and practiced. Her plans wouldn’t start for several months, anyway. 

“Ranma,” she said. “Are you still mad at me?”

“No,” he said. “I never should have been in the first place.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“Good.” She finally released the grip on the fabric of her gi. Brought her hands up close to her chest. “I had something else to tell you, but I wouldn’t want you to think I was just trying to make you not mad at me anymore.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, concerned. “What is it?”

The concern didn’t last long because Akane broke into a huge smile. 

“I’m pregnant.”

Ranma grinned. “Really?”

“Yeah!” She nodded with excitement.

“Ah man!” Ranma said. “Number two! Finally!”

They had tried, hard, pretty much ever since Ryoichi was born. And the doctors had said there was nothing wrong with either of them. It just never happened. 

Until now.

“This is so great!” Ranma blinked. Looked over at his wife. “Akane, listen! I’m gonna be better! To Ryoichi, to the new baby! I’m gonna tell them I love them and that I’m proud of them every single day! I’ll support their wildest dreams! I’ll never get mad at them! I’ll be the best dad you’ve ever seen!”

Akane laughed. “You’re already a pretty good dad.”

“But not the best,” Ranma asserted. “And I’m Ranma Saotome, so I have to be the best.”

She laughed again. “Okay. But I’m pretty sure you’ll get mad at them sometimes.”

“No way! I’m the best dad and I’ll have the best kids.”

Akane kept giggling. Ranma was elated. They had worked things out, best they could, like they always did. And she had given him the best news he had heard in a long time. 

They were still sitting across from each other, in the middle of the dojo floor

This time, he kissed her.

* * *

_ When they were 42 _

“So this is a pretty nice space,” Ryoichi said to the member of the kendo club that was helping him strap on his gloves. The clubhouse was large, spacious, and in good repair. “Do the rest of the clubs have a place this nice?”

“No,” said the kendo club member, pulling the laces tight. His face held no expression whatsoever.

“So, uh—” Ryoichi cleared his throat. He was used to people responding to his friendly charm instantaneously, but the older boy had seemed completely unaffected by Ryoichi entering the clubhouse unannounced after school. “This has gotta be different, huh? A match on the first day of school.”

The other boy shrugged, his face still blank. “Not really.”

Before Ryoichi could say anything else, the kendo club member pulled the traditional style kendo helmet mask over Ryoichi’s head. Adjusted everything so it was in place. Handed Ryoichi a bamboo shinai. Spun him forward and walked him to the white mark on the floor.

“Good luck.”

Ryoichi nodded, gripping the handle of the shinai in front of him. The whole damn day had been strange. There had been a welcome assembly in the morning where an older man in a Hawaiian shirt that looked like one of the ones his dad liked to wear in the summer had announced that he was the principal, to a chorus of boos from the older students. Then a large image of a boy and girl each with terrible haircuts had been projected onto a screen on stage, and the boos turned into near rioting. Until a slightly younger man pushed the Hawaiian shirt guy off of the stage and announced himself as vice principal.

No one had booed or cheered until the projection flickered and changed to a text display that read in large characters “You can have whatever haircut you want.”

An eruption of cheers until the screen flickered again, with a host of other weird rules, like no fraternizing between male and female classmates, enforced dress code, a limit of spending at the school store, and the older students rioted again. Screaming, leaping out of their seats, throwing books and trash on stage. 

And then Nobunaga Kuno had climbed on stage, and Ryoichi realized that he looked remarkably similar to the vice principal, and was nearly as tall. Nobunaga stood at the podium and announced he was fighting a kendo match with Ryoichi Saotome after school, and everyone was invited to see his victory. 

The vice principal had yelled “Saotome?!” and dragged Kuno off the stage. And then nothing else had happened, the stage empty, the projector still flickering, for nearly ten minutes. Eventually the students just got up and left the auditorium, heading back to class. 

Also Ryoichi’s teacher was a twelve year old girl, which was extremely fucking weird. And she had regarded Ryoichi with extra close suspicion, warning him against becoming a delinquent. This confused Ryoichi because, while his grades in junior high hadn’t always been the best, he was definitely always well behaved.

And now, here he was, after school, in the immense kendo clubhouse, a large crowd packed around the sidelines as he stood in the center of the room, waiting for Kuno to finish suiting up. 

“You know, Saotome,” Kuno said as his helmet was lowered over his face. “My father warned me not to fight you. Are you hiding some sort of secret technique?”

“Your father?” asked Ryoichi. “Do I know your father?”

“You saw him this morning,” responded Kuno. “The vice principal.”

“Oh, yeah,” said Ryoichi. “That makes sense.”

Takeshi, standing a few feet away on Ryoichi’s side of the small arena, let out a deep sigh. “You’ll never be a detective, Ryoichi. Hope you don’t want to write mystery novels.”

“I always preferred romantic comedies, really,” said Ryoichi. He grinned, but no one was able to see it behind the metal grates of the mask. 

“Silence!” shouted Kuno, grabbing his shinai and pointing it in Ryoichi’s direction. “Let’s see what you’re hiding.”

“Okay.” Ryoichi took a deep breath and assumed a ready position while Kuno did the same a few feet away from him at his mark. Three members of the kendo team, acting as referees, took their position. The head referee raised his hand.

“Begin!”

Kuno and Ryoichi simultaneously lunged forward. Neither of them landed a point with their opening strikes, and they became locked together, their gloves pressing up against each other at the base of their shinai. From this close distance, Ryoichi could make out the other boy’s features through the openings in the metal grate of his mask. Kuno’s handsome face was set in a mask of anger and determination.

_ Jeez, what the heck did I do to this guy? _

Kuno stepped back, and he and Ryoichi circled each other on the floor. Kuno was the one to attack first this time, thrusting with quick, short strikes in many directions. Ryoichi dodged them all, easily. The guy was fast, but not fast enough. 

Ryoichi’s evasiveness enraged Kuno further, and the taller boy started making stiff, strong strikes, the sound of his shinai whistling through the air. 

Hit nothing every time. 

Ryoichi tilted his head. The guy was good. National youth kendo champion. Nothing to sneeze at. But Ryoichi had been trained by his mother, who had also been the national youth kendo champion. 

Ryoichi spun around, missing Kuno’s fierce strike. Struck on his rotation, the shinai whipping against the top of Kuno’s mask. One point.

As Kuno attempted to recover, Ryoichi spun once more, in the other direction, bending under Kuno’s shinai. Struck Kuno on his ribs, the bamboo sword bouncing against the padding. Two points.

The referees threw their flags up in unison, agreeing on the victory. And just like that, the match was over. 

A few people on the sidelines cheered. The members of the kendo team looked stone faced, their eyes blank. Takeshi and Sakura bounced up and hugged Ryoichi, helping him take off his gear. 

“That was so great,” said Sakura. “I knew you would win!”

“So fast, too!” said Takeshi. “And he didn’t even get a single hit in.”

“Yeah,” said Ryoichi, smiling and unlacing his remaining glove with his free hand. “It was pretty fun.”

He turned to look over at Kuno, who was maskless, on the ground on his knees, devastated. Ryoichi walked over. Offered him a hand. 

“Hey, bud. Good match, huh?”

Kuno jerked his head upwards, his eyes blazing with tears. He slapped Ryoichi’s hand away. “This will not stand! I’ve never lost before, not ever!”

Ryoichi crouched down. Attempted to give him a friendly smile. “Sorry about that, then. We can try another day, if you want?”

The only response from Kuno was a silent, slack-jawed stare. Ryoichi kept smiling, although he was a little confused.

“Ryoichi, come on, go change!” Sakura was yanking up, back to standing on his feet. “I want to go to the boba shop before we go home.”

“You know, that stuff really isn’t good for you—”

“If you start talking badly about boba again, I will end our friendship. Now go on, get changed!”

Ryoichi laughed and headed to the boys locker room, feeling relieved that his first day of school was finally over.

* * *

_ When they were 27 _

“Check.”

Soun grinned over the shogi board at his old friend. Genma shouted and adjusted his glasses, staring intently at the arrangement of pieces. Ryoichi bounced in his little wheeled walker, sticking pieces of cheerio in his mouth and slurping on his fingers. 

“What do you think I should make for dinner?” asked Nodoka, poring over cookbooks in the living room.

“Something with potatoes,” Genma said, hoping Soun wasn’t looking too closely at the shogi board. “I have a craving.”

Ryoichi lifted himself on his toes and scooted forward, slamming his plastic walker into Soun’s side. Soun laughed and turned to his grandson, grasping the tray of the walker and gently rolling the baby back and forth. He loved Kasumi’s children dearly. Spunky Mirai, serious minded Toya, and good-natured Kenshi. But Ryoichi was his baby’s baby. Seeing his youngest daughter give birth and her eyes fill with unconditional love as she stared down at her son in her arms had caused Soun to cry like he never had before.

He was worried about the dojo. Ranma was being fitted for a cane today. Akane had promised Soun that Ranma’s swearing off of martial arts was only temporary. When his leg was feeling better, he would be back. But the young man’s leg had only gotten worse. Soun had changed his will, without telling anyone, to leave the dojo just to Akane, when he had once, long ago, willed it to Ranma and Akane both. Soun doubted she would ever leave her husband. But just in case. She was the heir to the dojo.

Ryoichi let out a happy giggle, bouncing up and down on his chubby legs. Soun smiled. Well, maybe they had a new heir. 

Ryoichi was a happy baby. Ranma doted on him just as much as anybody, Soun gave him that. Was certainly better at being a new father than Soun had been. Changed diapers. Gave baths. Would sit and play and talk and just hold his son for hours at a time. Even when his leg was hurting.

“Check again, Tendo-kun!”

Soun turned back to the board and frowned in a fury. “Saotome-kun! You cheated!”

“I did not! You’ve just been outmaneuvered!”

Ryoichi laughed from his seat, sticking another cheerio in his mouth. 

“Game over, Saotome-kun! Reset the board!”

Genma grumbled as Soun rose to his feet, carrying an empty glass, meaning to fetch some water. 

He took one step.

Then another.

He dropped the glass, which fell on the tatami noiselessly, not shattering. There was a shooting pain in the left side of his chest, traveling down his arm. He reached up, clutching at the front of his gi. No. This couldn’t be happening. He was too young.

Was he? He was a grandpa, after all. 

Soun dropped to one knee, trying to breathe. His chest was too tight. No air was going in or out. He fell to his side, his shoulder hitting the floor. The world was sideways. The shogi board. The windchime. Saotome-kun’s feet. The sky outside the doors.

“Tendo-kun?”

“I’ll call an—”

The sound faded away. Dark edges crept into his vision. He looked up at Ryoichi’s wide, curious eyes that were staring back at him from his walker. Akane’s eyes. Soun couldn’t help but smile even as he closed his own eyes one last time.

_ Take care of them, Ryoichi. They need you. _

* * *

_ When they were 42 _

“So how was your first day of high school?” 

Ranma grinned up at Ryoichi from the table as his son entered the living room. Ryoichi sighed and took a seat next to Rantaro.

“It was weird,” he said. “Really weird.”

“I bet,” said Ranma grinning. “It was weird when I went there too.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah, the principal was always trying to give me a buzzcut. And it felt like there was always someone trying to blow something up.”

“Yeah, our principal is weird, too,” said Ryoichi. “He also—”

He hesitated. He really wasn’t a good detective, but he couldn’t forget the image of terrible haircuts projected at the morning’s assembly.

“Dad,” said Ryoichi. “Did your principal—wear sunglasses? Use a lot of random English? Wear a Hawaiian shirt?”

“Oh yeah,” said Ranma, nodding. He was a better detective than Ryoichi, however. “Wait, is he still the principal there?”

Ryoichi nodded.

Ranma laughed and slapped the table. “Ha! Sorry you gotta deal with that.”

“It’s okay,” said Ryoichi slowly. “The vice principal seemed to be the one really in charge. But then his son—”

“His son?”

Ryoichi knew his father would be upset hearing about the kendo match. 

“His son arrived in a helicopter in the morning.”

“A helicopter?” Ranma blinked. “Ryoichi, what’s this kid’s name?”

“Kuno,” said Ryoichi. “Nobunaga Kuno.”

“Nobunaga. Kuno.”

Ryoichi nodded. There was a long pause.

Ranma burst out into laughter again. Loud, intense laughter. Holding his stomach. Tears in his eyes. “Shut! Up! Are you for real?”

“Uh—yeah—”

“Ahahahaahaha! Akane! AKANE! Get in here!!!!”

“What is it?” Akane entered from the kitchen, wiping her hands with a towel.

“Akane, Akane, Akane. Ryoichi is in school with Kuno’s son.”

“Oh, how nice,” said Akane.

“Yeah, but, but, Ryoichi! Tell your mother what the kid’s name is!”

“Uh—Nobunaga. Nobunaga Kuno.”

Akane blinked, once. 

And then she was on the floor, clutching onto Ranma’s shoulders and laughing just as loud. “Shut up! No he did not name his son Nobunaga!”

Ryoichi’s grasp of history was really too weak to understand why that was so funny. Even Rantaro seemed to be stifling a snort. 

“Is it really that funny?” Ryoichi asked him.

“Well, I don’t know this Kuno guy,” said Rantaro. “But it's weird someone would name their kid Nobunaga in this day and age.”

“Nobunaga!” Akane and Ranma screamed in unison before devolving into tears of laughter again. 

Mitsuko and Keiko walked in, Keiko covered in dirt from the garden. Their mother’s laughter faded immediately.

“Keiko! Why didn’t you change before you went and dug around in the dirt?” asked Akane. “I told you to stay clean!”

They hadn’t been able to source a new uniform for Mitsuko before school started, so she was wearing Keiko’s spare for the first week. Akane had told them both to keep clean so she didn’t have to wash them every day.

Keiko shrugged. “I just straight up forgot.”

“This is why I’m the favorite,” Mitsuko said, taking a seat at the table. 

“No one is my favorite,” said Akane.

“Mitsuko,” said Ranma, Ryoichi, Keiko, and Mitsuko in unison.

Akane frowned. “Well, her clothes are clean, at least.”

Mitsuko stuck her tongue out at Keiko, who flipped her off in return.

“Keiko!” Akane shouted. “What have I told you about rude gestures?”

Keiko sighed. “Not until I’m twelve.”

“That’s right. Now go wash up. And put your dress in the laundry, I guess I can find enough clothes to make a load tonight. I have like four kids right now.”

“Four?” asked Rantaro.

“Yes, you count. Do you have any dirty clothes?”

“Uh—” He scratched his head. “Some.”

“Great. Bring them downstairs when you get a chance.”

He hesitated. It didn’t feel right, having someone else’s mom do his laundry. “You don’t have to—”

“Nonsense! I’m sure you’ve been on the road a while. You need some clean clothes.”

Rantaro looked back at her. She was smiling. It was so motherly. He missed his own mom. He would have to call her tonight. “Okay.”

A high pitched chirp emerged from Ryoichi’s pocket. He pulled out his phone, opening it with his fingerprint. Upon seeing the notification, he frowned deeply. 

“What is it?” asked Keiko.

“It’s a text—from Nobunaga.”

Rantaro leaned over to look at it.

_ >>Tomorrow. Behind the gym. 3 P.M. —Nobunaga Kuno _

“They send challenge letters over text now?” asked Ranma.

“He signed his text?” asked Rantaro.

“How did he even get my number?” asked Ryoichi.

This one, Mitsuko had an answer for. “I gave it to him.”

“What? When did you meet him? How did you even know he needed it?”

She shrugged. “I heard some things. But he gave me five thousand yen for it, so it all worked out for me.”

Ranma laughed. “Boy, this takes me back.”

“Back to what?” asked Ryoichi. 

“Just back.”

Ryoichi frowned, staring down at his phone, reading the text again. A fight on his second day of school, too? And wait, wasn’t that—

_ >Can’t. That’s when Literature Club meets _

Only seconds went by before he received a response.

_ >>Fine!!! After Literature Club lets out!!! —Nobunaga Kuno _

Ryoichi shrugged.

_ >Sure. Why not? Let’s do it _

He switched his phone screen off and put it back in his pocket. If they were meeting outside the gym, then it probably wasn’t going to be a kendo match again. Tomorrow might be even weirder. 


	6. Spin

_ When they were 33 _

Akane hated being pregnant.

Being pregnant with Ryoichi had brought its own set of challenges. He was constantly moving in her womb, kicking the hell out of her insides. But when he was born, happy and healthy, she forgot all the trouble it had been, the sheer magnitude of fluid she had peed. And her body bounced back quickly, although her breasts were bigger now, her hips wider. 

And then the twins. She was miserable pretty much every second of the day. At first, Ranma had been elated that they were getting two at once, and Akane had remained cautiously optimistic. But it turned out she was high risk, and the doctors had not only taken away her psych meds, but put her on bed rest for the last three months. And she still had two months to go. 

This day was like any other. Ranma woke up early, and Akane woke up with him. She barely slept anyway, she was so uncomfortable constantly. He took Ryoichi with him to Ukyo’s, since Akane was such a fucking useless lump she couldn’t take care of her own son during the day while he worked. He came home during lunch, made sure she ate something, despite the fact she wanted to cry and vomit at the same time. Then he went back to work, leaving her alone again, with stacks of books and a small television they had moved into the bedroom for her. 

She didn’t care. None of it really mattered. She only left the bed to pee, not even having the energy to shower today. She wanted these kids out of her so bad. 

“Akane?” 

Kasumi, opening the bedroom door. Akane just shrugged at the sight of her sister. _Probably came over to help Ranma clean. I used to clean. I’m supposed to do that. I can’t do anything._

“How are you feeling?”

“Over it.”

Kasumi took a seat on the bed with Akane. Lifted her legs up and leaned against the headboard, putting her arm around her little sister’s shoulders. Akane just let her, the television playing some nonsensical game show she didn’t care about. 

“I know it’s hard,” Kasumi said. “I’ve been there.”

“You never had twins,” Akane muttered disdainfully. “It’s twice as bad.”

“I can imagine.” Kasumi held Akane’s head to her chest, stroked her hair. “I only had to be on bed rest for two months with Toya, and I went crazy.”

“I tried to help you.”

“I know. Thank you, Akane. Tofu tried too, but he was so busy with work.”

“Ranma too. He’s at the bakery all the time.”

“That’s not true. He closes up early all the time just to come home to you.”

“I know you’re right, but—” Akane wrapped an arm around her sister’s waist. Buried her head into Kasumi’s chest. “I still feel so lonely.”

“I know, I know. It will all be over soon.”

Kasumi rocked her back and forth. Akane started to cry. 

“I’m a bad mom.”

“You are not. Ryoichi is a wonderful little boy.”

“Because of Ranma. He’s a good dad.”

“You’re a good mother, Akane. A great one.”

“But I hate this,” Akane said, breaking into sobs. “I hate doing this!”

“The fact that you hate it and are doing it anyway proves you’re a good mom,” said Kasumi. 

Akane kept crying, her chest shaking with each fresh bout of tears. She would do anything to keep her babies safe. Even the ones she hadn’t met yet. She just wished it wasn’t so hard. She wished she didn’t have to rely so much on other people. Kasumi had three kids of her own to take care of, and here she was, coddling her little sister like she was an actual baby.

“Thank you Kasumi,” Akane whispered. “I couldn’t have done any of this, anything in my whole life, without you.”

“I think you could have, Akane-chan,” Kasumi whispered back. “But I’m glad I could help.”

They both remained still for a while, holding each other, not really focusing on the game show. 

“Mom! Mom! Look!”

Ryoichi bounded into the bedroom, his hair falling into his face. 

“Ryoichi, you need to let Mom rest—”

Ranma paused at the sight of Kasumi and Akane holding each other, Akane clearly having been crying. 

“Oh. Kasumi. Is everything all right?”

Akane sat up. Wiped her face. Smiled. “Everything’s fine, Ranma. Now, come here, Ryoichi. Show me.”

Ryoichi hopped on the bed and pulled out his backpack. “Me and Aiko drew pictures and I drew one of you and the new babies.”

Ryoichi handed Akane a wrinkled piece of paper. For a seven year old and a set of crayons, it wasn’t half bad. _He’s a better artist than both me and Ranma already._ She could make out her short hair, a big smile on her face. Ranma, next to her, with his cane and pigtail. Ryoichi himself, a smiling little boy with a round head. And a big circle with two swaddled babies, their faces crooked.

“Aiko said twins are supposed to look the same, but I told her you said our twins are gonna look different.”

“That’s right, Ryoichi,” Akane said, smiling. “They’re fraternal.”

Ryoichi nodded as if he knew the word all along. “Fraternal. That’s what I’ll tell her.”

Akane pulled her son into her arms. It was a little difficult, with her belly in the way, but Ryoichi was a clever little boy who managed to find room leaning against her shoulder as they looked at his drawing together. 

“This is really good, Ryoichi,” said Akane. “You know your Mom and Dad can’t draw.”

“Hey,” said Ranma, limping around to the side of the bed. “I can if it’s on a cake.”

Akane laughed. “Okay, Mom can’t draw. Even on a cake.”

“What about you, Aunt Kasumi?” Ryoichi asked. “Can you draw?”

“You know,” said Kasumi. “I don’t think I’ve ever even tried.”

“What!” Ryoichi stood up on the bed. “That’s crazy!”

Ranma tried to put his hands on his son’s shoulders. “Ryoichi, calm down—”

“Come on!” Ryoichi grabbed Kasumi’s hand, pulled her off the bed, out of the room. “Let’s go get my crayons!”

“Oh my—”

Aunt and nephew were gone, and Ranma scooted further in on the bed, putting his arm around Akane.

“Are you doing okay?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, looking down at the picture in her hands. “I am, really.”

“Okay,” he said, kissing her on the temple. “I’m gonna make dinner. You let me know if you need anything.”

Akane nodded, and he left the room. Things would be okay for her. She wouldn’t be pregnant forever, after all. And once she gave birth, she could start taking her medicine again. The remainder of her pregnancy would still be difficult, but she powered through, overjoyed when the doctors placed her brand new babies in her arms, Ranma next to her crying with happiness. 

But when the doctors told her there had been a complication, and she could never get pregnant again, she felt nothing but relief. 

* * *

_ When they were 42 _

“So what kind of fight do you think this guy is gonna give you?” Rantaro asked Ryoichi, blocking a high kick from the other boy. 

“I dunno,” Ryoichi replied, spinning back into a low stance. “He seemed like such a kendo guy, you know?”

“I don’t,” said Rantaro, aiming a punch at Ryoichi’s chest. “I’m not a weapons person. I use my bare hands as much as possible.”

“What about when you eat soup?” Ryoichi asked, dodging out of reach.

“What?” asked Rantaro, losing his momentum. 

Ryoichi leaped in the air and flipped over, landing behind Rantaro’s back. 

“Soup!” repeated Ryoichi, ducking under the spinning punch Rantaro sent his way. “You can’t eat soup with your bare hands!”

Rantaro paused his sparring, his feet snapping together. He pursed his lips and wrinkled his nose, shaking his head. “That’s not funny.”

“Ah!” Ryoichi grinned and pointed eagerly at the other boy. “You’re smiling, though! I can see you smile!”

“I’m not smiling,” growled Rantaro, holding back a smile. “You’re just obnoxious.”

“Oh yeah, definitely,” Ryoichi agreed readily. “Obnoxiously charming.”

Rantaro rolled his eyes, again pressing his lips together in a tight line. Ryoichi had asked him to practice sparring, but Rantaro felt pretty outclassed. Ryoichi was much faster, more agile. Although he rarely connected with a punch unless he absolutely had to. There wasn’t as much force behind Ryoichi’s punches as there were behind Rantaro’s, but the other boy was still extremely strong. Rantaro wanted to get better, punch the kid’s lights out. 

But instead, here he was, trying not to laugh at Ryoichi’s corny non-jokes. This house must be cursed. 

“All right, I’m done, we’ve practiced enough,” Rantaro said, throwing his hands up in the air.

“Aw, come on,” Ryoichi said, stopping him from leaving the dojo. “I don’t know what Kuno’s gonna throw at me tomorrow.”

“I’m sure you’ll beat him,” Rantaro said, sighing. “You’re one of the best martial artists I’ve ever fought.”

“Have you fought a lot of martial artists?” Ryoichi took a seat on the ground, crossing his legs and looking up at Rantaro curiously. Rantaro, for some reason, found himself sitting as well, facing the other boy.

“A few,” said Rantaro. “A lot, actually. My dad, mostly. He’s really good. Way better than me.”

“Better than my mom?”

Rantaro scratched his chin. “Hard to say. Maybe. Your mom is so petite, but she packs a punch.”

“She does, doesn’t she?” Ryoichi asked, his eyes lighting up. 

Rantaro sighed, no longer surprised by Ryoichi’s excessive admiration of his family. “Yeah. But he is definitely better than you.”

“You think?” asked Ryoichi. “That’s all right. He probably dedicated his life to it, huh?”

Rantaro shrugged. “More or less. But you’re so good at it and you don’t even want to run the dojo?”

“Nope.” Ryoichi shook his head. “You want to?”

Rantaro finally laughed. Ignored the victorious expression on Ryoichi’s face. “No thanks.”

“Oh? The life of a martial artist isn’t for you?”   


“Actually—” Rantaro averted his gaze. “No.”

“What? I would’ve thought—”

“I know,” said Rantaro. “I’ve trained since I was a kid, just like you. And I want to be good. The best. But when I picture what I really wanna do with my life—”

He blushed. Stopped talking. 

“What? Tell me, tell me!”

Rantaro looked back up into Ryoichi’s face. Why did he really wanna tell him? 

“I want—I want to be a dancer.”

“Really?” asked Ryoichi.

Rantaro nodded. 

“So why don’t you?”

“I mean, I can dance! I took a bunch of lessons. My dad even showed me how to do ballroom dancing. But, I don’t know. Martial arts is easier.”

“Easier than dancing?” asked Ryoichi in surprise. 

Rantaro nodded. 

“Huh.” Ryoichi scratched his chin. “Show me.”

“What?”

Ryoichi hopped to his feet. Held his arms out in the air and started to rotate around, shuffling his feet poorly. “It’s like this, right?”

“No, your form is all wrong—”

“Show me, then, show me!”

Rantaro grumbled and climbed to his feet. He approached the grinning Ryoichi and hesitated before reaching out and firmly placing one of Ryoichi’s hands on his own shoulder. Rantaro held Ryoichi’s left hand in his right, then put his left hand on the other boy’s waist. They were exactly eye to eye. Rantaro frowned.

“Usually my partner is shorter—”

“Should I hunch down?” asked Ryoichi, smiling and pretending to crouch.

“Don’t be stupid! Follow my lead. Move your feet like this—”

With smooth, gliding motions, Rantaro guided Ryoichi over the floor of the dojo, showing him the most basic of moves. Which of course Ryoichi picked up quickly, although his rhythm needed work. And he never once stopped talking, still attempting to make Rantaro laugh, even though he had already gotten a chuckle out of him today.

It probably would have been easier with music.

* * *

Akane walked out to the dojo, intending to tell the boys that dinner was almost ready. When she reached the door, she realized it was already open, laughter coming from inside. She peeked her head in and saw her son dancing with Rantaro, grinning and being his most charming self. A memory, from long ago, floated through her mind, of dancing with Ranma drunkenly under a lamppost in a park. And he was looking at her the same way Ryoichi was looking at Rantaro now. 

Smiling, she turned away. They would come in when they got hungry.

* * *

“Hey, Ranma?”

“What’s up?” Ranma had waited until after dinner to change out of his clothes from the bakery and Akane had followed him into the bedroom, where she now sat on the edge of the bed, watching as he exchanged one t-shirt for another.

“It’s Ryoichi,” she said softly.

“Yeah?” Ranma asked, pulling the new shirt over his head. 

“I think he’s found his first love.”

Ranma grinned. “About time. That kid as good looking as me, with twice the charm? Started to think he was a late bloomer.”

“Mmm,” Akane mused thoughtfully. “Perhaps.”

Ranma sat on the foot of the bed, giving his leg a quick rubdown. “So, who’s the lucky girl?”

“Oh, Ranma,” said Akane. “It’s not—it’s not a girl.”

“It’s not a—” Ranma raised his eyebrows. “Not a girl.”

“No.”

“So it’s a—”

“Yes.”

“Huh.” Ranma turned his gaze forward, thinking this over. 

“Is it all right? Are you upset?”

“Upset for what?” Ranma asked. “After everything you and me got up to, it would make me a crazy hypocrite.”

Akane smiled. “That’s true.”

“All right,” sighed Ranma, lowering his leg to the ground. “Who’s the lucky boy, then?”

“Well—”

“Is it the Kuno kid? Because that would be hilarious.”

“That would be hilarious,” Akane agreed. “But no.”

“No? Then who?”

Akane grinned nervously. “Rantaro.”

Ranma’s smile faded. “Rantaro.”

She nodded. 

He snatched up his cane and got to his feet, throwing open the bedroom door. “Absolutely not! I won’t have it, Akane, I won’t have it!”

“Ranma, wait—”

She chased after him as he marched through the house angrily. 

“No way!” he shouted. He paused in his path and whirled around to face her, his muscles taut, his face red. “Only over my dead body will one of my children date the son of Ryoga Hibiki!”

Akane looked up at him, her face stricken with horror. Ranma stopped. Looked around. Realized he was standing in the entrance to the living room and one, two, three, four children were sitting at the table. Oh. Shit.

Ryoichi’s mouth was open in a silent scream, staring up at his father. Rantaro blinked up, confused. Keiko and Mitsuko each raised one eyebrow. 

“I meant—” Ranma said, miserable over the thought of embarrassing his son. “Hypothetically—”

“He meant me!” Keiko said, hopping to her feet. She was the best detective in the whole family. 

“I did?” asked Ranma.

“He did?” asked Rantaro.

“Yes, it’s true!” She cleared her throat. Grabbed one of Rantaro’s large hands in her two tiny ones and looked up at the boy through her glasses. “I’ve been in love with you since I first saw you, Rantaro—Rantaro-kun. I know our age gap makes this relationship impossible, but please, treat me gently! Let us be friends!”

Ryoichi covered his face with his hands. Mitsuko covered her face, trying not to laugh. Ranma and Akane simply stared at the display unfolding at the table, unsure of how, or if, they should intervene. 

“Uh, well,” said Rantaro, extremely perplexed. “You are nine, so, uh—oh geez. Um. Friends is probably best.”

“I thank you for treating my maiden heart gently,” Keiko said, hugging him around the neck. “And, alas, it would have been doomed from the start, as my mother has forbidden me from falling in love until I reach twelve years of age! Isn’t that right, Mother?”

Akane raised her hands, palms up, in a sort of half shrug. “Sure.”

Ryoichi stood up suddenly, nearly knocking the table over. 

“Excuse me!” he yelled, balling his hands into fists at his sides. “I need to go throw up!”

He ran out of the room, leaving the rest of his family behind. 

“I’ll go and make sure he’s okay,” muttered Ranma. “Give him a digestive.”

He left the room as well, making slow progress after Ryoichi. Akane sank to her knees behind the table, letting out a deep breath.

“Have you really felt this way the whole time, Keiko?” Mitsuko asked, grinning.

“Of course,” her sister replied through gritted teeth. “You know me. I’m Keiko and I just—looooove boys.”

“And I feel like just last week you were giving me a cootie shot,” replied Mitsuko, propping her elbow up on the table and resting her chin on her hand. 

“I’m nine,” growled Keiko. “Not six.”

“But normally you tell me everything, Keiko!” said Mitsuko. “You hid your love so well.”

“I did, didn’t I?”

“How can I ever trust your word ever again? My own sister!”

“Yeah,” said Keiko, her voice low. “My own sister!”

“All right, enough!” Akane said, clapping her hands. “Everyone, go to bed!”

“But Mom, it’s not even eight o’clock—”

“Early bed time! Go on, go!”

The twins grumbled, but obeyed, leaving the table and heading upstairs, leaving Akane and Rantaro alone together. 

She gave him a sharp look. “That means you too.”

“Oh, right,” Rantaro mumbled. “Sorry.”

He scurried away and, finally alone, Akane rested her head on the table. If she didn’t have a big meeting tomorrow, she would drink that half bottle of rum under the sink all by herself.

* * *

_ When they were 42 _

Ranma knocked on his son’s door. No answer. He opened it anyway, shutting it behind him. A long time ago, this had been Akane’s room. Tidy, airy, her bookshelves neat, her school uniform hanging on a hook, always ready for the next day. Now it was still full of books, but only half of them were on the shelves. The others were stacked in piles around the floor. Ryoichi’s uniform jacket tossed over the desk chair. It wasn’t a complete mess, but it was certainly one thousand times messier than Akane ever would have thought about allowing it to be. 

“Go away, Dad.”

“Absolutely not.” Ranma limped over to the bed, sitting down, resting his cane next to him. “I had to climb all those stairs.”

“Sorry,” Ryoichi mumbled, his head buried in a pillow as he lay on his side, turned towards the wall. 

“Ah, you’re too good a kid. Don’t apologize.” Ranma let out a deep sigh. “I’m the one who needs to. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—eh, how do you kids put it—I shouldn’t have blown up your spot like that.”

“‘How do the kids put it?’ Are you ninety?” asked Ryoichi, still not turning around or uncovering his face. 

“Feels like that sometimes,” Ranma said. “I am sorry, though.”

Ryoichi said nothing. 

Ranma scratched the back of his neck. “I don’t—I don’t care that it’s a boy, you know.”

A beat.

“Really?”

“Really. After everything me and your mother have—”

“Please do not start talking about how much sex you’ve had with Mom as a girl.”

“Do I talk about it that much?”

“Yes!”

Ranma grinned. “Well, it is pretty memorable.”

“UGH!” 

“Sorry, sorry. And listen—Ryoichi, do you actually like him?”

Ryoichi lowered the pillow a little, but didn’t look at his father. “I don’t know.”

“Well, if you do, I think you should tell him.”

“But you said—”   


“I know what I said.” Ranma slapped his palm down on the mattress. “I was just—being an idiot. Taking out Ryoga’s actions on his son. Rantaro is a good kid. Hard worker. If you like him, tell him.”

“It’s not that easy,” mumbled Ryoichi.

“Sure it is.”

“You don’t get it, Dad. You and Mom fell in love at first sight when you were sixteen years old and never had to worry about anything after that!”

Ranma smiled. “That’s not quite how it happened.”

“How did it happen?”

Ranma turned a little, on the bed, looking down at his son who was still facing away from him. 

“It’s a long story.”

“Tell me.”

“Well,” said Ranma, clearing his throat. “Once upon a time, there was a girl who hated boys. And then one day, she met a boy who turned into a girl.”

“And then what happened?”

“And then they fell in love and lived happily ever after.”

Ryoichi finally turned some to glare at Ranma over his shoulder. “You left out a lot of parts.”

“I kept in the good ones,” Ranma laughed. “But what I’m trying to say is—yes. Your mother was my first love. Absolutely. Suckered me in right away. But while she was my first love, I—I wasn’t hers."

“Really?” asked Ryoichi, turning around more fully, still on his side. “Mom had a boyfriend before you?”

“No,” said Ranma. “There was just a guy she liked. But he didn’t like her.”

“Why not?”

“A lot of reasons. I don’t know if I should tell you. She’d be embarrassed.”

“Ah, come on, Dad, tell me—”

“All right. It was because that guy was in love with your Aunt Kasumi.”

Ryoichi sat up straight. “You mean Mom had a crush on Uncle Tofu?”

“Well—”

“What happened? She never told him?”

“No,” said Ranma. “She got over him.”

“How?”

“She met me.”

Ryoichi settled back against his headboard. “I guess that makes sense.”

“What I’m trying to say, Ryoichi, is—” Ranma tilted his head. “Sometimes, your first love doesn’t work out. And that’s okay. Because you’ll find the right person eventually.”

Ryoichi nodded. “I think I get it.”

Ranma smiled at his son. Carefully stood, bracing his weight on his cane. Walked to the bedroom door. 

“Then again,” he mused. “Sometimes you do get lucky and fall in love at first sight when you’re sixteen and have three ridiculous children and live happily ever after. And that’s pretty good, too.”

Ryoichi gave Ranma a genuine smile right before he left the room. He headed downstairs, his progress as slow as ever, to find Akane in the living room, looking exhausted, holding a cup of tea. 

“Is there rum in that tea?” Ranma asked her, sitting down next to her on the floor. 

“Absolutely not,” Akane replied indignantly. She lifted the cup to her lips, and her glasses fogged slightly from the heat. “That would taste terrible.”

He grinned. “I think I worked things out with Ryoichi.”

“Ah, good,” she said, setting her cup on the table. “He’s like you, anyway. Bounces back quick from pretty much anything."

Ranma watched her glasses clear, revealing her big brown eyes. She smiled up at him and he felt his heart pounding against his breastbone, same as the first day they met. 

“Hey, Akane.”

“What is it?”

“I love you.”

She giggled. “I know. You tell me every day.”

“What about you?”

“I love you. I tell you every day.”

He leaned forward and kissed her. She tasted like tea and sugar. 

Why would anything in his life need to change when he had everything he needed, right here?

* * *

_ When they were 24 _

“What do you mean America?!”

Akane clutched the phone so tightly in her hands her knuckles turned white.

“Exactly what I said. That’s where work wants me to be, so that’s where I’m going.”

“Nabiki! What about Ryoga?!”

“What about him?”

“Don’t you love him?”

“Akane! We broke up two months ago! I haven’t seen him since.”

“That’s not his fault! You know he’s just lost or something.”

“Stop butting into my love life!”

“He’s my friend too!”

“Good! Then he has a place to stay since I’ll be in America!”

“Have you even told Dad yet?!”

“You can tell him for me.”

“Nabiki!”

“What? I only have a week left before I leave. Too much to do.”

“A week?!”

“Yeah. This has been in the works a while. But I fly out next Friday.”

“I can’t believe you! How long have you known?”

A long silence.

“Two months.”

“Nabiki. Is this why—”

“Shut it, Akane. I’ll call Dad later.”

_ Click. _

* * *

_ When they were 42 _

Ryoichi waited behind the gym, arms crossed. There was no audience for this fight. For a reason he wasn’t sure of himself, he hadn’t even told Takeshi and Sakura about the text he had received. And it appeared Kuno hadn’t put the word out either. Literature Club had run so long that Ryoichi had been confident that Kuno would have been down here waiting for him already, but there was no sign of anyone else in the expanse of grass that stretched behind the school. 

He had enjoyed Literature Club though. Made a bunch of new friends. But he usually did. 

Spring breezes blew through the grass, the blades rippling in a wave of green shades. Ryoichi unbuttoned the top of his uniform jacket, trying to look cooler. 

A shadow blotted out the sun for an instant, and Ryoichi looked up as a figure leaped overhead, descending from the roof of the gym. Said figure landed nearly twenty feet in front of Ryoichi, so he brought his arms up, ready, spreading his feet apart in the dirt. 

“Ryoichi Saotome,” said Nobunaga Kuno, facing him, the fabric of his hakama blowing in the wind. “My thanks for attending our arranged meeting.”

“Sure,” said Ryoichi, smirking. “I’m always ready for a fight.”

“A fight?” Kuno raised one eyebrow. “I have no wish for an altercation. I have simply come to deliver a message.”

Ryoichi furrowed his brow. Brought his fists in closer to his torso. “What message?”

Kuno moved his arm, a blur, and something headed directly for Ryoichi’s head. Ryoichi quickly moved and caught the projectile in one hand, then lowered it in front of him and was astounded by what he saw in his arms.

A bouquet of golden roses.

Ryoichi looked up at Kuno, wide eyed. 

Kuno averted his gaze. Spoke. 

“I love you.”

Ryoichi remained silent as the other boy blushed. Turned away. Took one leap, and was out of sight. Then Ryoichi sunk to the ground on his knees, dropping the bouquet, his palms digging into the blades of grass as the breeze continued swirling around him, catching a single rose petal and carrying it into the sky. 

He had been right. The second day of school was definitely weirder.

* * *

“You win?”

“Huh?” 

Ryoichi looked up at Rantaro as he walked through the front door of his house, pausing to take his shoes off in the entryway. Rantaro leaned against the bottom of the stair banister. 

“Against Kuno? Did you win?”

Ryoichi looked down at his hand, where he was still clutching the bouquet. Why had he carried it all the way home? “I guess I did.”

“What kind of fight was it?”

Ryoichi looked up at him, his mouth open. Closed it. Shook his head. Headed upstairs without another word. Rantaro stared up after him, but it was never in his nature to make too much conversation, so he said nothing. 

Ryoichi opened his door to see Mitsuko on his bed, playing on her Switch which was plugged into Ryoichi’s phone charger. He sighed and shut the door behind him. 

“What are you doing in here?” he asked, making his way over to the desk and plopping down in the chair.

“Can’t find my Switch charger.”

“So go put it in the dock.”

“It’s downstairs! And then I have to play on the television and Mom is always like, ‘you’re doing so good, Mitsuko!’ and gives me a hug or a cup of tea every five minutes.”

Ryoichi laughed. “Ah, she’s the best.”

“I guess,” muttered Mitsuko, rolling her eyes. “What’s with the flowers?”

“Oh, I—” Ryoichi lifted up the bouquet, unsure of what to do with it. “I got them from Kuno.”

“I thought it was a fight,” Mitsuko said. “Why would he give you those?”

Ryoichi looked at his little sister and pursed his lips. “You can’t tell anybody.”

“Two thousand yen.”

Ryoichi already had his hand in his pocket, pulling out his wallet. He handed her the money and said, “Okay. So. He said—he said he loved me.”

“Loved you?!” Mitsuko’s eyes bugged out of her head. “Like, love you love you?”

“I think so.”

She wrinkled up her face. “Wack.”

Ryoichi sighed. “What am I going to do?”

“I don’t know, I’m nine.”

“No one’s ever confessed their love for me before,” said Ryoichi, bouncing one leg up and down, the bouquet shaking with his movements. 

“Do you love him?” asked Mitsuko.

“I hardly know him.”

“You hardly know Rantaro, either.”

Ryoichi blushed. “You don’t know anything, you’re nine!”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you!” Mitsuko rolled her eyes. “Talk about it with Mom and Dad or something.”

“No way, I’m a teenager! I should be able to figure this stuff out without my mom and dad.”

“Then talk to Rantaro!”

“What?! No way!”

“ . . . Keiko?”

Ryoichi and Mitsuko laughed together at that suggestion.

“An opening!”

Mirai swung in through Ryoichi’s open window and landed on his desk, squatting as she bit down on a fresh apple.

“Mirai—"

“Get it? Because the window was open. Literally.”

Ryoichi gritted his teeth. “What are you doing here, Mirai?”

She sat down on top of his desk, crossing her legs. “I dunno. Just bored. Thought I’d check out what the jerk squad is up to.”

“Who’s the jerk squad?” asked Mitsuko.

“You know, you guys. All of you. Everyone in this house.”

“You’re in the house right now.”

Mirai thought this over before grinning. “You got me there.”

“Oh, Ryoichi! You should talk to Mirai about it!”

“About what?” asked Mirai.

“Nothing,” replied Ryoichi, shooting his sister a dirty look. 

“It’s something!” exclaimed Mirai. “Now, come on, tell me!”

“No.”

“Tell me! Tell me! Tell me tell me tell me tell me TELL ME TELL ME TELL ME—”

“Fine!” snapped Ryoichi. He took a deep breath. “Mirai, you ever have a guy confess his love for you?”

“Oh sure,” she said, taking another bite of her apple. “Lots.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah,” she said with a smirk. She gestured down to her body with her free hand. “I mean, come on? You know.”

Ryoichi frowned. “This was a mistake—”

“Wait, is that what happened? Some guy confessed his love for you?”

Ryoichi nodded miserably. 

“Do you like him?”

“I don’t even know him,” said Ryoichi.

“Then you should go on a date with him,” Mirai replied.

“But I don’t even know him!” Ryoichi repeated.

“That’s what the date is for, dummy,” Mirai said, rolling her eyes. “You go on the date, get to know each other better.”

Ryoichi groaned. His stomach felt like it was full of tiny daggers pricking his insides. “I dunno. I don’t think I can.”

“What’s with you?” asked Mirai. “Normally you want to be friends with everyone you see, like a dang Disney princess or something.”

“Friends is one thing,” said Ryoichi, pulling the collar of his shirt up over the bottom of his face. “Stuff like this makes me feel nauseous.” 

“Nauseated,” corrected Mitsuko and Mirai together. 

“Ugh, whatever!” Ryoichi groaned and covered the rest of his face. “What if I just barf all over you guys, huh? That would help me feel better!”

“Just trying to help, jeez,” Mirai muttered, throwing her apple core into the wastebin next to Ryoichi’s desk. 

“And I’m just trying to charge my Switch,” Mitsuko said, rolling her eyes. 

Ryoichi pulled his collar back down and glared at them. With one strong motion, he gathered his sister and cousin in his arms and pushed them out the window so they were on the half roof, slamming the window shut and locking it.

“Hey!” said Mitsuko as Ryoichi drew his curtains closed. “How am I supposed to get down?! I don’t do martial arts!”

Mirai sighed and crouched down, her back to the young girl. “Come on, kid, I’ll help you out.”

“Fine,” muttered Mitsuko, climbing on her back. “Just don’t make me drop my Switch.”

“No problem,” said Mirai, grinning before jumping as high in the air as she could. 

Ryoichi listened to his sister’s panicked scream from inside his darkened room, resting his head on his desk and pouting. Part of him knew Mirai was right. Dating was for getting to know people better. Kuno seemed a little intense, but was passion such a bad thing? His stomach started to bubble up again. Maybe he should just go downstairs and tease Rantaro instead. 

Now that was a good plan. That could definitely help him forget about Kuno.


	7. The Parent Trap

_ When they were 38 _

Akane sighed, trying to hold on to the mountain of paperwork from the last client. She was trying to book an awards ceremony for a group of lawyers, and they didn’t want to use the dojo, which meant she had to find another venue, which would cut into her fee. At least they liked the idea of all you could eat okonomiyaki, meaning she would get a small percentage of Ukyo’s catering payment. However, since there were so many elements involved, every lawyer had decided to insert a million details into their contract, including the level of freshness the green onions needed to be. 

All the fine print was murder on her eyes. She was going to have to get glasses soon. Gray hair was bad enough. Crow’s feet were bad enough. Her stretch marks and sagging breasts were bad enough! She had spent the entire previous day in bed, trying to reserve energy for the meeting today. 

She trudged home from the train station, eager to get into the bath. The sun was almost setting as she rounded the last corner to home, and then opened the gates. 

And Keiko was standing there in the garden, covered with dirt from head to toe, bawling her eyes out. Every single vegetable plant had been moved, torn up, or cut, with soil everywhere, spilled out over the walkway.

“Keiko!” Akane shouted. “What did you do?!”

She marched over and glared down at her daughter. 

“I wanted—I wanted to help,” the little girl said between sniffles. “You had such a bad day yesterday I just wanted to bring all the vegetables in. But it was hard and I kept pulling and then I fell and I tried to put them back and I’m sorry Mom! I messed up! I’m sorry! I’m a bad daughter!”

Akane’s face went white. She dropped all the papers she was holding, letting them scatter into the dirt as she dropped to her knees and pulled her daughter in against her chest, letting Keiko cry as much as she needed to.

“You’re not, you’re not, you’re not,” Akane whispered in her ear. “You’re not a bad daughter. I promise, you’re not.”

“But I messed everything up!”

“It’s okay, it’s okay. We can fix it. And whatever we can’t fix, it will grow back.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Oh, yes, Keiko. It’s just temporary, you know?” Akane pulled back so she could look Keiko in the eyes. Gave her the warmest smile she could summon. “You were just trying to help me. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Keiko nodded, a few tears still sliding down her face behind her glasses. 

“You’re a very good girl, Keiko,” Akane said, brushing Keiko’s bangs away from her face. “And I love you very much. Thank you for trying to help. But sometimes it’s okay to ask for help too.”

Keiko nodded again, biting her lip.

“Now, would you like me to show you how to grow things properly? And then when they’re done growing, I’ll show you how to pick them.”

Keiko finally smiled. “Yes!” 

Akane sat side by side with her daughter in the dirt, fixing what they could, discarding what they couldn’t, teaching her how to nurture the garden until the sun went all the way down. Keiko helped her picked up all the papers she dropped and took a bath without complaint. 

Akane fixed herself a cup of tea and tried not to focus on what a terrible mother she was. 

“You’re not,” said Ranma that night when they were in bed together. “You know you’re not.”

“She said she felt like a bad daughter, Ranma,” Akane said, pulling her knees up to her chest. “Why would she say that? I’ve never said that!”

“I know,” he said. “But look at what you’re doing now, calling yourself a terrible mother when you’re not. The same thing she was doing.”

“Did she get it from me?” whispered Akane. “Inherit my brain somehow?”

“She’s half me, don’t forget,” said Ranma. “And she’s definitely more like me than you. So if she got it anywhere, she got it from me.”

“Sometimes I do forget,” Akane said softly. “That you feel the same way I do sometimes.”

Ranma held her in his arms and she tried not to cry. “It’s all right. The kids are good, really, aren’t they?”

“I thought they were,” said Akane “I love them all so much. I’m so worried I’m messing them up with everything I do. If Keiko hadn’t seen me lying in bed all day yesterday she never would have done that.”

“Moms get sick, Akane. It’s like having a cold.”

_ Tell me, Akane, have you ever had a cold? _

Every doctor had urged her to be kinder to herself. She wondered why it was so hard some days, and so easy others. It wasn’t as bad as it used to be. But now the kids were old enough to notice. Ryoichi had been old enough for a while. And they tried to take care of her, the same way Ranma did. Her sisters. Her father, when he was alive. Her children shouldn’t have to do that. No one should have to, but especially her children.

She bit her lip. Resolved to be tougher. Resolved to forgive herself if she slipped. Resolved to make sure her children never doubted she loved them, even for a single second. She could do it. 

_ Your brain has a bad cold. Or perhaps a flu. And it won’t get better until you start taking care of yourself. _

She hated that she had to keep learning this lesson.

But she did get better, every time.

* * *

_ When they were 42 _

“What are you doing?” asked Ryoichi as he walked into the living room. 

Keiko was bent over on the floor, surrounded by stacks of their mother’s photo albums. Rantaro sat at the table nearby, scrolling through his phone. Mitsuko lazed on top of a few cushions, her attention on her Switch. Ranma and Akane had left a few minutes earlier, asking Ryoichi to watch the twins while they went on a date.

“Teacher wants us to make a family tree, as a getting to know each other beginning of the year thing,” she replied, opening one of the thick binders. Her mother loved to take pictures, and before smartphones were a thing, had purchased instant camera after instant camera, documenting most of her life from the mid-90’s onward. 

Ryoichi took a seat next to her, interested in looking through them. He had seen some of them before, of course. His mother loved showing them off nearly every Christmas, although no one had the stamina to sit through her whole collection.

“What about you?” Ryoichi asked Mitsuko. “Don’t you need to do this too?”

Mitsuko shrugged. “We have different classes this year. My teacher doesn’t give a shit.”

Ryoichi frowned. “Mitsuko, what did Mom tell you about bad language?”

“Not till I’m twelve,” she grumbled, rolling her eyes and going back to her video game. 

“Look, I think this is Mom and Dad’s wedding,” said Keiko, flipping one of the pages. 

“Where are all the people?” Rantaro asked, looking over.

“They eloped,” replied Ryoichi, looking down in wonder. “To Hawaii.”

His parents looked so young. Even from the pictures, the way they were smiling at each other conveyed unmistakably unconditional love. 

“Smart,” said Rantaro. “My parents had a big wedding and they got divorced like right after I was born.”

“Mom looked so pretty,” Mitsuko said, finally putting down her Switch. “And—wait, is that a lava monster?”

“Huh,” said Keiko. “I think it’s a rock monster.”

“Hardened lava,” said Mitsuko. “Is rock.”

“Your mom is really tough, huh?” asked Rantaro.

Keiko flipped through a few more pages. “Look, here’s Aunt Nabiki and Mom at college!”

“Wow, Aunt Nabiki looks exactly the same,” said Mitsuko.

“She doesn’t have kids,” said Ryoichi. “That’s probably why.”

“And here they are—wait, who is this guy?” Keiko frowned down at the picture. Looked up at Rantaro. Back at the picture. “He looks just like you.”

Rantaro leaned over. Smiled. “That’s my dad.”

Keiko furrowed her eyebrows. Flipped through more pictures. Landed on a two page spread full of pictures of her Aunt Nabiki, her arms wrapped around Rantaro’s dad, and in one photo kissing. On the mouth. 

“Rantaro,” said Keiko. “Your dad dated my Aunt Nabiki.”

All four children bent their heads forward, leaning over the photo album. 

“My dad never mentioned this,” Rantaro said in a low voice.

“Is that why my dad is so mad at him?” asked Ryoichi. “Because he broke up with Aunt Nabiki?”

“That doesn’t make sense,” said Mitsuko. “Mom knew who Rantaro was, who had to be born after they broke up.”

Keiko flipped through several more pages. “It looks like they dated for a while. Years.”

“My dad never said anything,” said Rantaro. 

Keiko tapped the last picture of her Aunt Nabiki and Rantaro’s father, a photo of the two of them together, dressed in winter clothes, in front of the dojo during a Christmas party. 

“Ryoichi,” she said slowly. “You said that Rantaro told you that his dad never mentioned anything about our dad having a wife and kids, right?”

“Yeah,” said her brother. 

“That’s true,” agreed Rantaro. 

“And your parents are divorced, right Rantaro?”

“Yeah. Since forever.”

“And your dad isn’t still in love with your mom or anything?”

“No way,” said Rantaro, remembering the last time his parents met face to face and his mother sicced three sumo pigs on his father. 

“Does he have a girlfriend?”

Rantaro shook his head. “He’s never had a girlfriend, at least that I’ve seen.”

“Hmm,” said Keiko, her mouth pulling up into a smirk. “I think I’m having an idea.”

“Oh no,” moaned Mitsuko, falling back on the cushions.

“Shut up, you’ll like this one.” Keiko stood and began pacing back and forth next to the table. “I think that Rantaro’s dad was broken up with by Aunt Nabiki.”

“That tracks,” said Ryoichi with a shrug.

“And he was heartbroken over it. Rebounded with Rantaro’s mom. And when that didn’t work out, decided to swear off women altogether. But still too affected by his heartbreak to mention it to his only son. Too heartbroken to even mention the sister of the woman he loved!”

Ryoichi frowned. “I think you’re reading a lot into it—” 

“Let’s ask Rantaro, then.” Keiko turned to him, her eyes shining. “Do you think your dad could still be in love with our Aunt Nabiki?”

Rantaro shifted his weight awkwardly. “I don’t know. It could be possible. He doesn’t really open up about stuff like that.”

“Ryoichi!” Keiko turned to her brother. “Let’s get them back together!”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Mitsuko stood, actually releasing her Switch and letting it fall on the cushions. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?!”

“That’s right, sister!” Keiko took her hands, smiling wide. “Me and you? Finally get to do a parent trap.”

“YES!” shouted Mitsuko at the top of her lungs. “A parent trap! About time!”

“Parent trap?” asked Rantaro.

“You know, like the movie,” Ryoichi replied, smiling. 

“We’re twins, Rantaro,” declared Keiko. “We live by the parent trap.”

“We die by the parent trap!” shouted Mitsuko. 

They leaned forward, flexing their arms and clasping hands.

“We are the parent trap!” they shouted in unison. 

“All this because of some old pictures?” Rantaro mumbled, flipping back through the photo album.

“Come on, Rantaro,” said Keiko, turning back to him. “We can’t do it without you.”

Rantaro paused, looking down at a picture of his father smiling. He was smiling in all the pictures. More than Rantaro had ever seen him smile in his short life. And for some reason, the eager eyes of all three Saotome children were strangely convincing.

“All right,” said Rantaro, attempting a weak smile. “I’d like to see him this happy again. Let’s—let’s do a parent trap.”

The three others whooped and hollered, and Keiko forgot all about her family tree assignment as they bent over the table, sketching out plans and arguing about the finer points. It was hard to get information out of Rantaro, not because he was unwilling but because he just didn’t give out a lot of detail when he answered questions. 

“Okay,” said Keiko after nearly an hour’s worth of planning. “We’re going to need Mom and Dad’s help.”

"Obviously,” said Mitsuko. 

Ryoichi looked at the clock. “They should be home any—”

“We’re home!”

All four children lined up on one side of the table, arranging themselves politely. Ranma and Akane walked into the room, wearing matching smiles. 

“Oh?” Akane said in a gentle tone. “What’s all this?”

Keiko set her hands on top of the table, her fingers intertwined. “Mother. Father. Please, have a seat.”

Amused, Ranma and Akane shared a quick glance before settling themselves down opposite from their daughter. 

“What’s this all about?” asked Ranma.

Keiko gestured to her brother. “Ryoichi, proceed.”

He grinned. “Earlier tonight, while flipping through old photo albums for a school project, we discovered that our Aunt Nabiki was once in a long term relationship with Rantaro’s father.”

Ranma raised one eyebrow, his smile starting to fade. “That’s true. So?”

“So,” continued Ryoichi. “After asking Rantaro if his father was still single and slash or hung up on his mom, we came to the conclusion that his father is likely still in love with our dear old aunt.”

“Oof, don’t let her hear you call her old,” muttered Akane.

“As a result, we thought it would be a great idea if—” Ryoichi spread his hands out and flashed his most charming smile. “We helped those two crazy kids get back together.”

Ranma and Akane looked at each other, then back at the children.

Akane cleared her throat. “Kids, that’s a—”

“Terrible idea,” said Ranma.

“Wonderful idea,” said Akane at the exact same time. 

Ranma turned to his wife, infuriated.

“What?” she asked, shrugging and looking away. “I always thought they were cute together.”

“Akane!”

“Yes, Mom!” Keiko shouted, slapping the table with her hand. “Wait till you hear what we’ve got planned!”

“Oh?” asked Akane, pushing her glasses up her nose. “You have a plan?”

“Of course,” said Mitsuko. “And obviously, it’s based on the 1998 Lindsay Lohan masterpiece, The Parent Trap, as the situations are exactly the same.”

“What?!” cried Ranma. Although he shouldn’t have been surprised. He knew how much his kids loved The Parent Trap. They had it on DVD, even, the case faded and cracked from being opened and closed hundreds of times. “How is this like The Parent Trap at all?!”

“You know,” said Mitsuko, gesturing back and forth between her and her sister. “Adorable twins, long separated couple, living in different countries. The whole thing.”

“First of all,” said Ranma, pointing his index finger in the air. “The twins in that movie were identical, which you are not. Secondly, the twins met at summer camp for the first time, and you two have been together your whole lives. Thirdly, and most importantly, the twins were the children of the parents they were trapping!”

“So?” asked Keiko.

“So? So?! _So!_ Only Ryoga is a parent, and to an entirely different child! Also we don’t even know where he is, and your Aunt Nabiki is currently in America with no plans to return!”

Keiko waved one hand dismissively. “Details.”

“Come on, Dad,” said Mitsuko. “We need your help.”

“I’m not even speaking with Ryoga!” Ranma shouted in exasperation. “This whole plan is just preposterous!”

The group around the table fell silent, Ranma stewing in his anger, arms crossed. 

Ryoichi cleared his throat. In a very, very low voice, he said, “Parent Trap. Parent Trap. Parent Trap.”

The twins got the idea, grinning as they began to pound the table rhythmically with their fists. “Parent Trap! Parent Trap! Parent Trap!”

Akane smiled and eagerly joined her children, chanting along, “Parent Trap! Parent Trap! Parent Trap!”

Even Rantaro found himself caught up in the absolutely chaotic energy of the Saotome household, pounding on the table with everyone else, grinning as he cried, “Parent Trap! Parent Trap! Parent Trap!”

Ranma frowned, staring straight ahead, trying to ignore them.

“Parent Trap! Parent Trap! Parent Trap!!”

“What have I told you guys about just chanting the name of stuff you want?!”

“Parent Trap! Parent TRAP! PARENT TRAP! PARENT TRAP! PARENT TRAP!! _PARENT TRAP!! PARENT TRAP!! PARENT TR_ —”

“ALL RIGHT, FINE!” Ranma threw his hands up in the air. “We’ll parent trap ‘em.”

“Yay!” everyone else cried in celebration, clapping their hands.

“Who we parent trappin’?” Mirai asked as she walked into the room, sitting down as she bit into an apple. 

“Mirai, what are you doing here?” asked Ranma, his eyebrow starting to twitch.

“Eh, I’m just always around,” she said shrugging. She nodded towards Ranma and Akane. “Now, who are we parent trappin’? You guys?”

“We don’t need to be parent trapped. We’re married and happily in love,” Ranma snapped. 

“Aw,” said Akane.

“Rantaro’s dad and Aunt Nabiki!” piped up Keiko.

“Oh really?” Mirai scratched her head. Narrowed her eyes at Rantaro. “Is Aunt Nabiki secretly your mom?”

“No—”

“It’s a loose adaptation,” said Akane, smiling. 

“Huh,” said Mirai, taking another bite of her apple. Then a long look at Rantaro. “You know, I met your dad once.”

“Really?”

Ranma and Akane looked over at her and she met their eyes in a challenge. Ranma was glowering, but Akane looked terrified. Mirai shrugged and looked back at Rantaro.

“Yeah,” she said, finishing her apple. “He’s a real dick.”

* * *

_ When they were 29 _

“Hello.”

“Hey, Nabiki.”

“How much?”

“What? What do you mean?”

“How much money do you need?”

“I don’t just call to ask you for money, you know!”

“I know. But when you call to check up on me, you say, ‘It’s me, Akane.’ When you need money, it’s ‘Hey, Nabiki.”

“. . . Is it?”

“Yes. How much?”

“It’s—it’s complicated, this time.”

“How so?”

“Well, you know we’ve been hosting weddings and stuff in the dojo.”

“I’m aware.”

“And Ranma’s been baking the cakes—he’s pretty good at it—”

“Of course he is.”

“And, well—he was thinking, you know, he wants to open a bakery.”

“A bakery? Ranma?”

“Yeah.”

“I see.”

“We just need some startup money—not that much, really—and you would be an investor, really—”

“Fine.”

“What? Really?”

“Yes. A loan.”

“Of course.”

“About time he figured out what to do.”

“Yeah. Yeah.”

“Anything else?”

“Thank you. Really. So much. It will turn his whole world around.”

“It’s not for him, Akane. You know that.”

“Thank you, then. From me.”

“Is that all, then?”

“Is—Nabiki, are you doing okay?”

“Better than ever.”

“Are they—is everyone—is she—”

“They’re fine, Akane. I’ll tell them you said hello.”

“Ranma and Ryoichi, too.”

“Ranma and Ryoichi, too.”

“Thank you, Nabiki. I love you. Goodbye.”

“I love you. Goodbye.”

* * *

_ When they were 42 _

Ryoichi almost considered not going to the Kendo Club's first actual meeting on Friday. He had managed to avoid Kuno for two straight days. Although it seemed like Kuno was avoiding him as well. Ryoichi decided that he needed to be brave and face the issue head on, although his stomach violently disagreed with that idea as he opened the door to the clubhouse.

“Saotome-kun, take a seat,” said the club captain, gesturing to the floor where the other team members were sitting crosslegged in neat rows. Kuno was nowhere to be seen. Ryoichi let out a sigh of relief. Maybe Kuno decided he was too skilled for a high school kendo club. So was Ryoichi, really, but he liked making friends. 

“Is that everyone?” the captain asked as two more boys filed in through the door. 

“I think so,” the assistant captain said, looking at the roster. “Except for—”

“Here,” said Kuno, as he barged in breathlessly. “Present. Excuse my tardiness, I paused to help a wayward maiden—”

“You’re on time, sit down,” the captain said with a roll of his eyes.

Ryoichi stared straight ahead, realizing the only space left in formation to sit was next to him. Kuno sat and Ryoichi blushed, still not looking over, just registering the movement in the corner of his eye. The captain began to drone on with a welcome speech, outlining rules and expectations. Ryoichi tried to hold in a yawn, and halfway through, rubbed the back of his neck as the muscles became stiff. He tilted his head to the side and accidentally made direct eye contact with Kuno, who was making the same gesture.

Both boys blushed immediately and faced front again. Ryoichi tried not to grab at his face in a panic. _Why am I blushing? Why is he blushing? He’s the one who made the move on me! Wait, is giving flowers a move? Is that what a move is? Oh, I’m gonna throw up. I’m really gonna throw up. This is stupid! Who cares! This is how high school is, Ryoichi! Get your act together! I wanna barf._

Eventually, the speech ended, and they were divided into pairs to practice drills. Ryoichi managed to avoid pairing up with Kuno, not even looking over at him once. _Maybe that will hurt his feelings! Maybe I should pair up with him just to let him down easy! Wait, do I want to let him down? Do I not want to let him down? Do I want to let him up? That doesn’t make any sense! Ugh, what would Dad do? Dad would marry the first girl his parents set him up with, that’s what—_

A voice crackled over the intercom. 

“Ryoichi Saotome. Please come to classroom 1-F.”

Ryoichi shrugged. Had he left something behind? Weird they would make a whole announcement for it. Nevertheless, he was grateful for the interruption to his nonstop thoughts. Locking away his things, he returned to the main building and up to his class.

He slid open the door, and no one else was there except for a tall figure standing in front of the chalkboard. Golden light from the late afternoon sun flowed through the windows, making his classroom look as if it was stuck in the past. The figure spoke.

“Those who don’t know history are doomed to repeat it.”

Ryoichi stepped inside the classroom. The figure had his back to him, although judging by his height and haircut, there was only one person it could be.

The vice principal.

Tatewaki Kuno, age forty-three, turned to his side, gesturing for Ryoichi to come further into the room. 

“Have you heard that saying before, Ryoichi Saotome?”

Ryoichi shrugged. “Sounds sort of familiar. History’s not my best subject, though.”

The vice principal gave him a tight lipped smile. “Yes, I’ve seen your marks from junior high.”

The tall man walked in front of the teacher’s desk and leaned against it, crossing his long legs in front of him. Ryoichi walked to one of the student’s desks in the middle of the room and posed similarly, hoping he looked nearly as cool. 

“So, uh—” Ryoichi cleared his throat. “What’s this all about?”

“Do you know your own history?”

“I hope so,” Ryoichi said with a nervous grin. “I was there for most of it.”

“Hmm,” the vice principal mused, raising one eyebrow. “You are quite like your father.”

“Oh yeah, Dad said he knew you. Mom too.”

“Did they?” Another amused smile. “You know, you have your mother’s eyes. Your father’s everything else, but your mother’s eyes.”

“I get that a lot,” said Ryoichi, his grin becoming more confident. 

The vice principal crossed his arms. “My son is quite enamored with you. He told me of the message he gave you.”

“Nice to know he’s open with his parents,” Ryoichi said, trying not to sweat. 

“He inherited my passion, for better or for worse. Although certainly for better he did not inherit my—insistency.” The vice principal paused. “I know he carries himself with bravado, but he is just a boy, still. Be gentle with his heart.”

“Okay,” said Ryoichi, feeling like his skin was stretched tight all over his body. Was his vice principal really telling him not to break his son’s heart? Why can’t the earth just open up and swallow everything in lava? 

“Your mother and father were not so gentle with mine,” said the vice principal. “So you understand why I worry for Nobu.”

“My mother—and father?!”

“Oh yes,” replied the vice principal. “I loved them both. Or, at least, that’s what I thought love was at the time. I was very wrong.”

Ryoichi bit down on the inside of his cheek. Is that possible? To love two people at once? 

The vice principal sighed. Smiled. Stood up straight and spread his arms wide. 

“I will involve myself in my son’s affairs no longer, I give you my word. Merely think on what I’ve said, and do not treat my son cruelly.” 

Ryoichi nodded, wanting to swallow his own tongue and choke to death. 

The vice principal gave him a nod and left the room.

The second he was alone, Ryoichi rushed over to the trashcan and threw up everything he had eaten for lunch.

* * *

_ When they were 40 _

“So what’s the big news?”

Akane sat at the kotatsu with her old friend Toshiko, drinking tea. The children were all in bed, and the other guests at the Christmas party had left nearly an hour ago. Toshiko and her wife were staying in the guest bedroom and while Toshiko had offered to help clean up, Akane refused her and insisted they sit and relax for a while instead. Toshiko’s wife Shizuka was in the corner playing a very frustrating game of Old Maid with Ranma. They were both equally terrible, and kept passing the joker back and forth.

“Ah,” said Toshiko, taking a sip. “I accepted a new position of hospital administrator. Right here in Nerima!”

“What, really?” Akane smiled brightly. “I never thought you would leave Chihayama.”

Toshiko laughed. “I’m getting old, Akane. The hospital here has retirement benefits.”

Akane nodded. “I understand. We’ve had to set all that stuff up ourselves.”

“Akane did it by herself,” Ranma muttered from the corner, frowning as he picked the joker from Shizuka’s hand again. “I can’t figure out any of that mess.”

“Is that true, Akane?” asked Toshiko. “All by yourself?”

She shrugged. “Well, I talked to a lot of lawyers. But I did all the accounting. Still do. We should be okay. At least I haven’t needed to borrow any money from my sister in a long, long time.”

“I swear, you’re doing better and better every time I talk to you.”

“You think so?”

“Absolutely. You’re so grown up now. You were just a baby when we first met.”

“I was seventeen!”

“A baby.”

Akane, who’s oldest child was now fourteen, could finally understand what that meant. “A baby.”

“I do like the glasses, Akane.”

“You do?” Akane touched her frames self consciously. “I don’t look old?”

Toshiko shook her head. “No. I think they’re very modern.”

Akane clutched her mug of tea again. “I’ve had them for a year, they still feel new.”

“I’ve worn glasses since I was six years old, so unfortunately, I cannot emphasize with you for once.”

Akane laughed. “I’m glad you’ll be close by, sensei. We can visit like this more often.”

Toshiko’s eyes sparkled behind her glasses. “I can’t wait.”


	8. Like a Clock

_ When they were 42 _

There was a wedding taking place in the dojo today, and as it was a Saturday, that meant the children were out of school. Akane asked Ryoichi to take the twins to the clinic for Kasumi to look after them, and Rantaro accompanied them on the walk over, curious as to what Mirai’s parents could possibly be like. 

Once they neared the clinic, the sounds of barking became audible.

“He brought the dogs!” Keiko shouted excitedly, and she and Mitsuko ran ahead of the two boys for the last block.

“Who did?” asked Rantaro.

“My cousin,” said Ryoichi. “Kenshi.”

As they rounded the wall that surrounded the clinic, the barking was much louder. In the small front yard was a round faced young man in a windbreaker, grinning ear to ear as he watched Mitsuko and Keiko play with six dogs that were just past puppy stage. Curiously, all of the dogs had similar markings, their fur black and white, split exactly down the middle.

“Ryoichi-kun!” The young man looked up, his smile somehow growing even bigger. “How are you? How’s high school?”

Ryoichi smiled back and gave his cousin a warm hug. “Crazy as everything else I do.”

Kenshi laughed. “Who’s your friend?”

“We’re not—”

“Rantaro,” said Ryoichi. “He’s staying with us for a while.”

“Nice to meet you! Kenshi Ono, at your service.”

Rantaro shook the other boy’s hand, surprised at the energy put into the gesture. Once they separated, Rantaro walked over to the group of dogs, crouching down. One particularly friendly animal came right up to him, wagging his tail. Rantaro smiled and patted his head. 

“They look just like my dad’s old dog, Kuroshiro,” said Rantaro wistfully. 

“Kuroshiro, son of Shirokuro,” said Kenshi, crouching down next to him. “That must make your dad Ryoga Hibiki.”

Rantaro looked over in surprise. “You know him?””

Kenshi shook his head, still smiling. “Never met him. But I keep papers for all my pups. Know all about their ancestors. Helps me train ‘em for their future jobs.”

“Jobs?”

“Sure,” said Kenshi. “These guys are gonna be ninjas.”

“Ninjas?” Rantaro frowned. He was pretty sure Kuroshiro had never been a ninja. 

“Ryoichi-kun?” 

Ryoichi looked over at the front door of the clinic, where his aunt was standing and smiling pleasantly. Rantaro and Kenshi stood as well and Rantaro realized the young dog trainer looked almost exactly like the woman nearby. Ono. So he must be Mirai’s brother, and this must be her mother. They both seemed—unlike her. 

“Hi, Aunt Kasumi. Mom said you were expecting these guys, right?” Ryoichi gestured at the twins with his thumb. 

“Oh yes. It’s why I asked Kenshi to bring over the dogs. I know how much they like playing with them. And who’s this?”

She had turned her gentle smile to Rantaro.

“Rantaro,” said Ryoichi. “My Aunt Kasumi.”

“Rantaro,” she said in a soft voice. “Oh, of course. Akane told me you were staying with them.”

Rantaro nodded, wondering when he was going to stop running into people who knew him before they had even met. 

And then before he knew it, she was hugging him. Rantaro, flustered, stood still and blushed for a moment before giving the woman an awkward pat on the back. Kasumi pulled away, resting her hands on his upper arms and still smiling. Kinda looked like Ryoichi’s mom. 

“I’m so glad,” she said. “I know this is a good sign.”

Rantaro had no idea what to say or do and simply stood there. Luckily Ryoichi seemed to notice how stiff he was and pulled him away.

“All right, Aunt Kasumi, we got plans. We’ll see ya later.”

“Of course! Have fun, you two!”

“And you guys be good, all right?” Ryoichi called to the twins as they moved to exit the clinic grounds. 

“Eh,” said Mitsuko, shrugging as she scratched the belly of a dog. 

“I’ll take it,” said Ryoichi with a cheery grin, leading Rantaro down the street.

"What plans do we have?" Rantaro asked him once they were about a block away.

"I thought we'd have some real fun today," Ryoichi replied. "So we're going to the library!"

“Like, actually go?” Rantaro frowned. “You know you can just, like, check out books on your phone.”

“It’s way more fun to go,” said Ryoichi. “And you can meet my second cousin.”

“Second cousin?”

“Yeah, Mirai and Kenshi’s brother Toya.”

“That would make him your first cousin.”

“No, Mirai’s my first cousin, she’s the oldest. And Kenshi’s my third cousin, he’s the youngest.”

“That is not how that works.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, who are you, the king of genealogy?”

Rantaro crossed his arms as they continued walking. “I’m surprised you even know the word genealogy.”

“I have quite an extensive vocabulary,” Ryoichi replied with a grin. He turned around, walking backwards in front of Rantaro, putting his hands behind his head. “But I’ve never been able to wrap my head around math.”

“Math has nothing to do with you not knowing how first cousins work,” Rantaro said with exasperation. 

Ryoichi tilted his head, still smiling. “I think I just established that it does.”

They arrived at the library, a building made of blue steel and glass, a red brick path and overgrown shrubbery in front. The air inside was cool and heavy with the scent of books and polished wood. Ryoichi walked right up to the large gray desk several feet past the entrance, Rantaro close behind. 

“Yo, Toya!”

A tall, serious faced and broad shouldered young man standing at the desk with his back to them turned around and frowned deeply at the sight of Ryoichi. His hair was short, black, and straight, and neither Ryoichi or Toya himself really understood how closely he resembled a younger version of his grandfather Soun, although their mothers were keenly aware.

“Ryoichi,” Toya hissed. “This is a library! Be quiet, for once!”

“Sorry,” said Ryoichi in a voice not quite a whisper. “But you know the inability to be quiet is like a genetic trait in my family.”

“Yes,” said Toya, not smiling. “I am familiar.”

Rantaro had to agree, although he did so silently.

“So,” Ryoichi said, grinning but earnestly trying to keep his voice down. “You have any books on dance?”

Rantaro blushed, not having realized this was why Ryoichi had taken him to the library.

“You know Google exists now, right?” asked Toya with a sigh. “Or Youtube.”

“It’s more fun to learn from a book,” Ryoichi replied. 

Toya sighed again. Turned to the computer on the desk next to him. He was smart, a genius, really. Had graduated high school at thirteen, and sped through college and graduate school nearly as quickly, and now by the young age of nineteen was a full fledged librarian, his childhood dream. He didn’t have much in common with his cousin, but they did both love to read. So as irritating as he could find Ryoichi and his relentless charm, he really didn’t mind helping him find the correct books.

“What about dance?” asked Toya. “Like a photo book, or a memoir, or the history of dance?”

“History,” said Ryoichi, leaning over the counter and pointing his finger excitedly at the screen. “Lately I feel like I should learn more about history. Those who don’t know history are doomed to repeat it, after all.”

Toya raised his eyebrows and smiled slightly. “That’s true. I’m almost impressed.”

The small printer next to the computer whirred and Toya tore off a sheet of receipt-like paper and handed it to Ryoichi. 

“I assume you know how to find these?”

“You know it, bud,” Ryoichi said, grinning as he took the paper. “Thanks!”

“Shhh!” Toya hissed at him and Rantaro as they headed upstairs. Ryoichi did, in fact, know where to find the books. He had memorized the layout of the library when he was only ten years old. While he hadn’t mastered the complete Dewey decimal system, he knew the general area of where to go. Up on the second floor, almost all the way at the end. A handful of titles, some books large, some surprisingly thin. Ryoichi started pulling them off the shelf, handing them to Rantaro, who simply held them without comment. 

“And the last one,” Ryoichi said as he dropped a five inch thick tome on top of the stack Rantaro was already holding.

Rantaro was an extremely strong teenage boy, but books are incredibly dense, so his shoulders were starting to ache. “Ryoichi, do we really need all this?”

“The more sources the better,” Ryoichi said, shrugging and empty handed. There was a somewhat airy section of the second floor by the wall full of windows that overlooked the library entrance with rows of tables. Ryoichi led Rantaro over to one and Rantaro set the books down with a grumble. They each took a seat and Ryoichi cheerfully opened one of the books and began paging through. 

Rantaro warily took a book of his own. It was pretty dusty, the pages yellow, the ink a tad faded. He frowned. Toya was right. Google exists now. Why were they doing this? Ryoichi seemed so excited, though, his eyes moving up and down over the page as he read, the smile never fading from his face. His energy was so contagious, influential. What was it like, to be that sure of yourself all the time? 

“Can you do ballet?” 

“Huh?” Rantaro looked up to see Ryoichi holding a book open to face him, pointing at a picture of male ballet dancers.

“Ballet? Do you do ballet?”

“A little. I mostly do more modern stuff, though. Hip-hop. Contemporary. Stuff like that.”

“Why not ballet?”

“Ballet for dudes is kind of boring. It’s mostly just lifting up girls. Doesn’t interest me too much.”

“Oh?” Ryoichi’s voice came out a little high pitched. He cleared his throat. Turning back to the book, he furiously flipped through a few pages. “What about these like old timey dances? Like the Charleston?”

“We learned some stuff like that in ballroom dance. And I took traditional Japanese dance, too.”

Ryoichi shut the book and let out a big sigh. “So you already know dance history, huh?”

“Some. It’s like learning anything else. You probably read a lot of old books when trying to learn how to write, didn’t you?”

Ryoichi leaned forward, his sideways smile taking on an approving nature. “That’s right, I did.”

Rantaro picked up another book. “And it’s not like I know everything already. And they’re always coming up with new dance stuff to learn. Just look at TikTok.”

“That’s it!” Ryoichi yelled. A librarian somewhere hushed at him loudly and he lowered his voice. “We’ll make you a TikTok.”

Rantaro frowned. “I dunno.”

“We’ll do it together,” said Ryoichi. “It’ll be about the history of dance. But we’ll spice it up, make it modern, make it jazzy.”

Rantaro’s frown deepened, his mouth now halfway up his face. “Jazzy?”

“Yeah, it’ll be fun,” Ryoichi said. “Think of it, two good looking guys like us, dancing shirtless, we’ll get a million followers in a week!”

“Shirtless?”

“I mean shirts on, obviously,” Ryoichi said, avoiding the other boy’s eyes. “It will still work.”

Rantaro wrinkled his nose a little, tilting his head to the side. “Ryoichi, are you—?”

“What?”

Rantaro shook his head. “Nothing.”

“All right, then we’re in agreement. History of dancing TikTok it is. It’ll be great. I’ll get Mom to link it on her instagram, too. It’ll blow up.”

“Your mom?”

“Yeah, she’s got a ton of followers. It’ll be synergy.”

“Synergy?”

“I told you I have a good vocabulary. Now come on, let’s go check these out and go home and get to work.” Ryoichi smiled and stood up from the table, Rantaro with him. Ryoichi stacked up all the books and placed them in Rantaro’s arms. 

As they headed down the stairs, Rantaro asked, “You’re not gonna make me carry these home, are you?”

“If you offer to carry them then I won’t have to make you,” said Ryoichi with a grin. 

Rantaro grunted and set the books on the counter in front of Toya. 

“We’ll take ‘em all,” said Ryoichi, leaning his elbows on the counter and looking up at his cousin. 

“Aah,” said Toya. “Nice to see you broaden out into nonfiction, for once.”

“What do you normally get?” asked Rantaro.

“Romance novels,” replied Ryoichi as Toya began scanning the books one by one, placing and stamping a due date sticker on each. 

“Really?”

“Sure. My favorite book of all time is Pride and Prejudice.”

“I’ve never read it.”

“You should,” said Ryoichi, beginning to stack the books back into Rantaro’s arms. “It’s great. What’s your favorite book?”

“Oh, uh. Howl’s Moving Castle.”

“Really?” Ryoichi said with a laugh. “Are you an otaku?”

“No,” grumbled Rantaro. “Just because they make an anime based on a book, doesn’t mean I’m an otaku. The book is way different, anyway!”

“Is that so? You’ll have to tell me how.” Ryoichi placed the last, excessively thick, book on top of the stack Rantaro was holding.

“Fine, it’s—”

Rantaro and Ryoichi’s voices faded away as Toya watched them walk to the entrance. He raised one eyebrow, knowing for a fact that Ryoichi had read Howl’s Moving Castle at the age of eleven, at least a dozen times over. With a smile, he turned back to the computer. He had always wondered why his charming and handsome younger cousin had never had a girlfriend.

Well, maybe they had more in common than he had thought.

* * *

_ When they were 30 _

There was lightning in his leg. 

Ranma sat up straight in bed. The room was dark. He saw nothing. He blinked, trying to get his eyes to adjust. What had he done? What had he done? What had he done?

“Ranma—?”

Akane’s sleepy voice, stirring in bed next to him. Her hand reaching for him in the dark.

I’m sorry Akane. I’m fine. Go back to sleep. Don’t worry.

He couldn’t say anything. Not a word came out. Her cool arm around his chest and she was sitting up in bed, rubbing his back. He couldn’t breathe. He tried to do what he had learned, close his eyes and breathe, but it was even darker with his eyes closed and that terrified him. 

“It’s all right, Ranma, it’s all right.”

“It’s—not. I messed up. I messed it all up.” His voice was strained. He couldn’t get any air in. And then the tears started. With a sudden movement, he turned his whole body around. Threw his arms around Akane, burying his face in her stomach. She held him as he cried, stroking his hair, trying to soothe him.

“I’m here, Ranma. I’m here.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. Please don’t leave me.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because I ruined it. I ruined everything.”

“Of course you didn’t.”

It was the bakery. It wasn’t doing well at all. They had borrowed all that money from Nabiki and Ranma put in hour after hour, leaving Akane alone with Ryoichi far too long during the day and nothing seemed to be turning around. He didn’t know what he was doing wrong. Things always worked out for him. But they weren’t working this time. 

“Yes I did. I messed it all up. That’s why your dad left you the dojo. Because he knew I was a failure and you should do it all yourself.”

“No, Ranma. No.”

“It’s true. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I messed up.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Ranma. I promise. I love you.”

She kissed the top of his head. Squeezed his shoulders tight. He wasn’t like this very often. He didn’t stay like this for very long. But her heart still broke to see him hurting. Wanted to take all his pain and shove it inside herself and burn it in the fire of her own heart, like a steam engine devouring coal. 

“You were gone, Akane, you were gone. Disappeared.”

“That was a long time, ago, Ranma. I’m right here. Right now.”

He kept crying. Holding onto her with all his might. Begged her again and again not to leave. And she promised again and again to stay. But he was drowning and she didn’t know how to swim. There had to be something. Something that would inspire him and help him be confident in himself again.

Ranma had stopped crying, but his grip on her didn’t loosen a tiny bit. Just trying to steady his breathing now as she continued to hold him. Even now, out of practice for years, he was still stronger than her.

And then she thought of it. There was one thing Ranma Saotome loved almost as much as his wife and son. 

Competition.

* * *

_ When they were 42 _

“All right, so it’s one, two, three—”

“Right, but pull your elbow up higher—”

Ryoichi and Rantaro spent their Sunday practicing in the dojo. Ranma had not dragged Rantaro to the bakery today because apparently there were “child labor laws” that prevented Rantaro from working too much in one week. They had stacked up a bunch of training mats, cinderblocks, and a chair with pillows on the seat to prop up Ryoichi’s phone at the right angle to record. It turned out both boys were perfectionists and making their first video was taking longer than they thought it would. 

“Okay, so one, two, three, high elbow—”

“Not that high, you almost hit me in the face—”

“What are you two doing?” 

Ranma was standing in the doorway of the dojo, leaning against the doorframe. He had closed up at twelve today, his normal routine on Sundays, and now was genuinely curious as to what his son and his friend were up to. Didn’t look like martial arts.

“We’re making a TikTok, Dad,” said Ryoichi with a smile.

“A TikTok?” Ranma frowned. Furrowed his brow and scratched his chin, deep in thought.

“Oh my god,” muttered Rantaro under his breath. “He’s about to say ‘like a clock’ isn’t he?”

“He’s definitely about to say ‘like a clock,’” Ryoichi whispered back.

“Like a clock?” asked Ranma.

Rantaro groaned and covered his face with his hands. Ryoichi rolled his eyes. “No, Dad. It’s an app.”

“A clock app?”

Rantaro groaned. Ryoichi clenched his fists at his sides. “No, Dad! For videos!”

“Of clocks?”

Ryoichi took a deep breath. Widened his stance, feet hip width apart. Pointed one finger dramatically in the direction of his father.

“Okay, boomer!”

Ranma’s eyes went wide, clutching his chest as if shot by an arrow, electricity crackling through the room. 

“Boomer? _Boomer?!_ ” he asked in a high pitched voice. He pointed back at himself defiantly. “Gen X! Late gen X, I’ll have you know! Very late! I’m practically a millennial!”

“He’s not,” Ryoichi said to Rantaro.

“Oh, that’s it, I’m gonna find out what you’re up to!” Ranma whirled around, his cane as the pivot point, and walked out of the dojo yelling. “Akane! Show me how to put TikTok on my phone!”

Rantaro and Ryoichi were left alone in the dojo, cringing down to their toes. 

"What if he gets a TikTok?" Rantaro whispered. "And then he's like one of those forty year old guys with the weird energy and open mouthed smile who is like, 'hey kids, I'm ticking a tock!'"

"That does sound like something my dad would do," Ryoichi said with a sigh. "But I honestly don't think he'll be able to figure out how to make one."

"I hope you're right," said Rantaro. "I really, really hope you're right."

* * *

_ When they were 31 _

"Merry Christmas!"

Ranma grinned, slamming the gift box on the table in front of Nabiki. Everyone else except Akane had gone home or fallen asleep long ago.

"What is this?" Nabiki asked, raising one eyebrow.

"It's freedom," said Ranma, leaning forward, pushing the box closer to her. "Open it."

Nabiki looked at her sister, sitting at the end of the table. "You two shouldn't be buying me gifts."

"We didn't," replied Akane, smiling and cradling a mug of hot cocoa.

Nabiki frowned and cautiously lifted the lid from the box. It was full to the brim with cash, stacks of bills bundled up tight. 

"That's everything we owe you," said Ranma, his smirk increasing. "Plus interest."

Nabiki raised her eyebrows, instinctually taking a bundle and flipping through it with her thumb. "The bakery is doing that well?"

"It is doing really well," said Akane. "But that's from his last competition. The prize was two million yen."

"Two million?!" Nabiki cried, letting her primal urges take over for a second. She looked back at the box of money. "Maybe I should have been a baker."

"You wouldn't have been better than me," Ranma said, grinning.

"I suppose that's true," Nabiki replied, still somewhat flabbergasted. "Although couldn't you have written me a check or done a wire transfer or something?"

"Nah," said Ranma. "This was way more satisfying."


	9. Love, But Loudly

_When they were 42_

The bakery was closed on Mondays, and Rantaro was looking forward to a second day of sleeping in. However, he was still roused shortly after dawn by the sound of high pitched screams in the hallway. He bolted out of his futon and stumbled to the bedroom door.

Upon opening it, he was both surprised and unsurprised to discover the screams coming from Keiko, being held around the waist by one of her father's strong arms. And a few feet away, Mitsuko, being held similarly by their mother. Ryoichi stood behind his father, in front of his own bedroom door, yawning.

"I'm tired of your attitude!" Keiko shrieked, struggling to get free. 

"You need to stop butting into my life!" Mitsuko shouted back, also struggling against Akane's grasp.

"Come on now, what's this all about?" Akane asked.

"I tried to give her some of my dresses!" Keiko yelled, still flailing.

"Oh, well, that's nice, actually, Mitsuko, you should—"

"I don't want her stuff!" Mitsuko cried. "It's ugly!"

"How dare you?!" Keiko was really kicking her legs now, dangling a foot off the ground. 

"Mitsuko, that's not nice to say—"

"It's true!" she shouted. She pointed at her sister and yelled again, as loud as she could, "You dress like a grandma!"

"A grandma? A _grandma?!_ "

"That's what I said!"

"Maybe a really young grandma with a cool aesthetic that you can't appreciate!"

"Aesthetic?" asked Ranma. "Wait, Keiko, are you smart?"

She went still. Slid out of her father's arms and landed on her feet. 

"No!" she shouted. "Absolutely not! No way!"

Akane sighed, lowering Mitsuko as well. "Oh great, Ranma, you've made the children want to be stupid."

"Not children," Ranma said, defending himself. "Child. One child." 

"I'm not smart, I'm not!" Keiko declared again.

Ranma knelt down. Placed his large hands on his daughter's shoulders. In a somber tone, he asked, "Keiko, what's sixty-three times eighteen?"

"One thousand one hundred thirty-four," she replied without thinking, then immediately slapped both of her hands over her mouth, eyes wide.

"Big whoop, I can do that too," Mitsuko muttered, crossing her arms.

Ranma turned to her. "Fifty-three times twenty-six."

"One thousand three hundred seventy- eight," Mitsuko replied smugly.

Grimacing, Ranma looked up at Ryoichi. 

"Seventy-two times thirty-three?"

"I have no idea," said Ryoichi with a shrug. "I don't even know my eights times tables."

"You don't know your eights times tables?!" asked Akane in shock.

"Don't like eights," said Ryoichi. "Don't trust 'em."

"What—"

"No, no, I get that," said Ranma, nodding. "They're shady. Like, eight. What is that?"

"Can you really not do math in your head, Ryoichi?" Keiko whispered.

"No way," he replied with a smile.

"But your sisters can," said Ranma. "Your mother can. Her sisters can."

"Well maybe only girls can do it, Dad, you ever think of that?"

Ranma rubbed his chin. "That would make sense, if it's a girl thing."

Rantaro watched this entire conversation play out, silent the entire time. But as he looked over at Mitsuko's beaming face, he snapped.

"What the hell is this place?!" he shouted, throwing his arms up in the air.

The entire Saotome family paused and looked over at him, finally noticing that he was there. 

"What do you mean?" asked Akane.

"It's like—you have all these arguments, but it's really like you're just trying to see who can yell 'I love you' the loudest!"

"Well, yeah," said Mitsuko. "How else are we gonna know who loves each other the most?"

Rantaro's jaw dropped open. "You mean you guys actually do that?!"

They all nodded once in unison. 

Rantaro tensed his shoulders up, waving an index finger at them slowly. "This is not normal. I don't know if it's unhealthy, because it's so supportive, but it is not! Normal!"

The others were silent for a moment before Ranma said, "Wow, Ryoga really did a number on you, huh?"

Rantaro clenched his hands into fists. Unclenched them, his fingers making claw shapes in the air. Clenched them one more time and shook his head before yelling “AUGH!” at the top of his lungs and storming back into the guest room, slamming the door behind him. 

The Saotome family immediately went back into their conversation without another pause. 

“All right, Mitsuko, you know Keiko was just trying to be nice. Keiko, try not to be so pushy. Ryoichi, we’re going to go over your eights times tables before you leave for school,” Akane said, pushing up her glasses. 

“What? I got this far without ‘em!”

“Also apologize to each other,” Ranma said, patting Keiko on the shoulder. 

The twins each mumbled a “sorry” and crossed their arms in a similar manner. 

Akane smiled. “You know, Keiko, we could put you in the advanced classes with Mitsuko—”

“Nooooooooo!” she shouted. “This is why I didn’t want to be smart! Then they make you do things! I hate doing things!”

“Sorry, kiddo, your secret is out,” said Ranma, giving her a teasing smile. “Maybe you could even skip a grade.”

“Noooooooooooooooooo!!!”

Akane tilted her head in consideration. “You know, there’s that juvenile cram school that’s supposed to help prepare kids under ten for the Todai entrance exam—”

“Oh, I see what this is!” Keiko spread her feet apart and put her hands on her hips. “You all are ganging up on me!”

Akane laughed. “To be fair, you’ve gotten the best of us hundreds of times.”

Keiko crossed her arms and smiled with a sudden smug satisfaction. “That’s true. I usually win.”

Akane rolled her eyes but didn’t drop her smile. “All right, everybody get ready for school. Your dad is going to make chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast.”

“Yay!”

Rantaro lay in his futon, behind the door, flat on his back, arms crossed, steam coming out of his ears. He could clearly make out every word they were saying. They were all so loud, all the time. His dad was so quiet. Lots of times, they would walk together in silence for miles, without saying a single word.

He missed that. He missed that a lot.

* * *

_When they were 42_

Ryoichi was ready.

One hundred percent. He was absolutely ready. Completely prepared. 

He ducked into the boy’s restroom and chugged half a bottle of pepto bismol. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he stuck the bottle in his pocket and checked himself in the mirror above the sink. He unbuttoned the top of his uniform jacket. Patted the sides of his hair. This was going to be fine. 

As he left the restroom, he passed the crowd of students clamoring around the school store, hollering for whatever was left for lunch. His appetite was eradicated, although he had managed to choke down the chocolate chip pancakes his father had made for breakfast. He continued down the hallway, stopping right before he reached classroom 1-C. 

His stomach yelled at him. He placed his hands over it, willing the pepto to be better at its job. Why was he doing this? Why had he decided to follow Mirai’s advice? She was an idiot. He was an idiot, too, though. And she had been right. For a moment he thought about turning around completely. He didn’t need to ask Kuno on a date in person. He could do it through text. That way, if he said no he could throw up in private 

Wait, why would he say no? Kuno was the one who had said he loved him! This was a guaranteed success!

Somehow, that made Ryoichi feel even worse. 

He took several deep breaths in front of the classroom door. Tugged at the bottom of his uniform jacket. Felt his face grow hot. Finally, shaking, he lifted his hand to the latch.

_SHLACKCKKCK._

The door slid open before he touched it, and Ryoichi stood face to face with Nobunaga Kuno. 

Ryoichi yelped and jumped backwards several feet, bumping against the windows lining the far side of the hallway. Kuno stepped forward and shut the classroom door behind him, averting his gaze. 

“Saotome,” he muttered with a polite nod and a blush, before turning to proceed down the hallway.

“Wait!” Ryoichi cried in a squeaky voice, holding out one hand. As Kuno turned around to face him, he cleared his throat and attempted a more calm stance. Deciding that thinking any more about it was just going to cause him more trouble, Ryoichi grabbed Kuno by the wrist and pulled him in the opposite direction and into the stairwell. There, he suddenly realized he was touching the other boy and released him, staring down at his hands and weaving his fingers together nervously. 

“Saotome?”

Ryoichi frowned, staring at his shoes. Every word he wanted to say was trapped in the back of his throat.

“I assume you wanted to respond to my message. If this is a rejection—”

“It’s not a rejection!” Ryoichi said with force, still looking down.

“It’s not?” Kuno’s eyebrows rose hopefully.

“I mean—I’m not—it’s not love, but—I think—I just—” Ryoichi shook his head. Swallowed. Closed his eyes. “You wanna go on a date?”

There. He did it. He had asked someone on a date. Achievement unlocked. On his way to adulthood for sure. Shaking, he opened one eye, looking up at Kuno.

The other boy stared back at him, wide-eyed. In a quiet voice, he responded, “Yes.”

Ninety pounds left Ryoichi’s shoulders instantly. He broke into a smile of relief. “Okay, great! That’s—all right. Great. Super. I will—I’ll text! We’ll text! Make plans over text!”

Kuno nodded wordlessly.

“Cool,” Ryoichi said, his stomach becoming very hot. He gave an awkward wave, backing out of the stairwell to the hallway. “I will, um. Text. See ya.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned fully and bolted down the hallway as fast as he could, his arms pumping like a professional track runner. Skidded into the bathroom and barged into an open stall, bending over the toilet.

Waited.

Didn’t throw up.

_I did it._

* * *

_When they were 42_

Ryoichi pulled all of his clothes out of his drawers, desperately looking for something to wear. Keep it casual. Wear a t-shirt and jeans. A hoodie. No, Kuno was rich. Wherever the place was he asked to meet had to be nice. Ryoichi had never even heard of it before. Guess he would have to dress up a little.

Slacks. Button-up. A tie? Should he wear a tie? He had one, but his mom had always tied it for him. He couldn’t ask her to tie it this time. The one thing he absolutely did not want was for his parents to know he was going on a date. There was one other option.

Ryoichi opened the door to his room, peeking out into the hallway, looking both ways. Carefully and silently, he slid in his stocking feet over to the guest room door. Knocking softly, he whispered, “Rantaro! Rantaro!”

The door opened, a cranky Rantaro frowning as he asked, “Whaddaya want?”

“Shh!” Ryoichi slapped one hand over Rantaro’s mouth, raising a finger to his own lips as he pushed the other boy inside the room. “Quiet!”

Rantaro nodded, his eyes wide over Ryoichi’s hand. Ryoichi let out a deep breath and released him, shutting the guest room door.

“What is your deal?” hissed Rantaro.

“I need your help,” Ryoichi said quietly. 

“With what?”

“You do ballroom dancing, right? You gotta dress up for that?”

“Sometimes, why?”

Ryoichi held up the source of his consternation. “You know how to tie a tie, right?”

Rantaro rolled his eyes and sighed. “Yeah.”

He took the tie from Ryoichi’s hand and slung it around the other boy’s neck, stepping in close so he could fix the knot. 

“Thanks,” said Ryoichi, looking away.

“Where are you going that you need a tie for, anyway?” Rantaro asked, lifting one end of the tie over the other. 

“Out,” Ryoichi muttered, still not looking at him.

“Out where?” Rantaro asked.

Ryoichi shrugged. 

“Come on, you asked me for a favor.”

“Fine,” said Ryoichi, blushing deeply. “I have—a date.”

“A date?” Rantaro paused, his hands close to Ryoichi’s neck. After a split second, he resumed adjusting the knot of the tie into place. “What are you so embarrassed about, then?”

“I’ve never been on a date before.”

“Really?” asked Rantaro, flipping Ryoichi’s collar down over the tie. “But you’re kind of obnoxiously charming and friendly.”

“Sure, I can make friends,” said Ryoichi. “But this is dating.”

Rantaro fixed the length of the tie one more time and stepped back. “So what? Dating is just like making friends, only with kissing.”

“Kissing?!” Ryoichi grabbed the sides of his face. “There’s going to be kissing?!”

“Maybe.”

Ryoichi crouched down, holding his stomach. “What am I going to do?”

“Have you never kissed anyone before?” Rantaro asked, crouching down beside him. 

Ryoichi shook his head, staring down at the ground. “Have you?”

“Well, one of my dance partners kissed me after we won a competition,” Rantaro said.

Dance partner. A girl, then. Ryoichi frowned. Stood up. Turned to leave the room. 

“Thanks for your help,” he muttered before shutting the door behind him. In the hallway, he leaned back against the door for a moment before shaking his head firmly. Didn’t matter.

He had a date.

* * *

_When they were 28_

Nodoka left the house, her son and his wife having gone to bed. Kasumi and her children had left as well. There had been no party this year, but the family had still gathered for a Christmas Eve dinner, trying to make what merriment they could, the empty seat at the head of the table a pain in the bottom of their hearts.

She could see her breath in the air as she walked towards the dojo and found what she was looking for. A plume of smoke curling up into the sky from behind the back wall.

“Nabiki?”

“Hello, Auntie,” Nabiki greeted with a smile, flicking ashes from the end of her cigarette. “Care for a smoke?”

Nodoka laughed. “Not for me, thanks.”

She leaned against the back wall with Nabiki, staring up at the stars, cold points of light.

“So why did you come out here?”

“I just wanted to spend time with you. I miss you.”

Nabiki took a drag of her cigarette. Exhaled. Smiled again. “I miss you too. But don’t you have Ranma and Akane and their just so adorable baby to keep you busy?”

Nodoka sighed. “They don’t need my help. Akane doesn’t even seem to want my help. They’re both too capable.”

“That they are,” Nabiki said, flicking her cigarette ashes again. 

“I just don’t know what to do,” Nodoka said. Her shoulders felt heavy. “I feel useless here. I have no idea how to spend the rest of my life.”

Nabiki took one last drag, her cigarette now nothing but a filter. She threw the butt on the ground and rubbed it out with her toe. Crossing her arms, she took a long look at Nodoka.

“Come work for me.”

“What?”

“Come work for me,” Nabiki repeated. “I’m only a slightly better cook than Akane, and I hate cleaning. You come stay with me and do that stuff, and I’ll pay you. Like an adult nanny.”

“A nanny?” asked Nodoka in shock.

“Well, you can handle my schedule too. Call you my personal assistant.”

Nodoka blinked several times, her brow knitting together. “In America? I’ve never been. I don’t even know much English.”

“Eh,” said Nabiki, shrugging. “You’re smart. You’ll learn enough to get by in no time.”

“I—” Nodoka hesitated. It was crazy, what Nabiki was suggesting. She had never been out of the country. Had barely even left Tokyo. She was middle-aged, and had never really worked a proper job. Her only son and grandchild were here, in Japan. Yet somehow, she felt like she was needed somewhere else. 

“Okay,” she said at last.

Nabiki smiled genuinely. “Really?”

“Really,” Nodoka replied, smiling nervously herself. “But you know I can’t leave my husband behind.”

Nabiki tilted her head, musing this over. “Well, it will be fun to have a panda running around America, I’ll tell you that.”

* * *

_When they were 42_

Paradisia, the place Kuno had asked to meet, was exactly what Ryoichi had feared it was. An extremely fancy French restaurant, the exterior facade smooth white marble, adorned with golden lion sculptures on either side of the entrance. Ryoichi finished off the bottle of pepto bismol in his pocket, throwing the empty container into a nearby trashcan on the sidewalk.

Ryoichi pulled out his phone.

_ >I’m here _

A moment, then a response.

_ >>Arriving shortly. —Nobunaga Kuno _

Ryoichi found himself smiling. It was sort of endearing, how he signed his texts. 

It wasn’t long before a limo pulled up at curbside, a well dressed chauffeur hopping out and opening the rear passenger door. Kuno stepped out, nodding his thanks, and approached Ryoichi with a smile. Ryoichi tried to smile back, his stomach only mildly rumbling. Kuno was dressed in a sharp three piece suit, and Ryoichi felt like maybe he hadn’t fancied himself up enough. He wanted to rip his own tie off, take in a bunch of deep breaths, and then run in the opposite direction. 

No, that was silly. He was already on the date. He was doing it! And Kuno looked handsome in his suit. Maybe too handsome. Oh no.

“Saotome.”

Kuno sounded nervous. That actually made Ryoichi feel slightly better. 

“Kuno!” he responded with a bit too much enthusiasm. “Hey—how’s it—hey—how’s it—how’s—how is it going?”

“Very well, thank you. I appreciate you joining me for dinner.”

“No problem,” Ryoichi said, putting his hand behind his head, trying not to laugh like a mad scientist. “This place is definitely pretty fancy, though! Am I dressed okay?”

Kuno looked him up and down, and then blushed. “You look very nice.”

Ryoichi blushed too.

“Thanks! You look—also—good! Good!” He gave Kuno two thumbs up, then stared down at his hands in horror. What the hell was he doing? Quickly, he shoved his hands behind his back and attempted to smile.

Kuno cleared his throat and gestured to the stairs. “Shall we?”

Ryoichi nodded, his throat closed tight. Managed to turn and walk up to the restaurant doors with Kuno. Rantaro’s words echoed through his head. Dating is just like making friends. Only with kissing. Don’t think about the kissing part. Think about the friends part. 

Kuno held the door open for him. Very chivalrous. Ryoichi took a deep breath as he walked past and stayed in the front of the restaurant as Kuno stepped forward and spoke with the maitre’d. They were led to a table with a crisp white table cloth, full place settings, candles in the center.

“ _Merci_ ,” said Kuno as the waiter pulled their chairs out for them. He said something else in French and the waiter smiled before nodding and walking away.

“You speak French?” Ryoichi asked. 

“I do. I was in immersion school as a child. And our family regularly summers in France.”

“Really? Impressive,” replied Ryoichi. He unfolded a napkin and placed it in his lap. 

“Well, surely your English is just as competent,” said Kuno. 

“What makes you think that?”

“I saw you—” He paused. Blushed. Cleared his throat. “I saw you in the schoolyard, with a copy of Pride and Prejudice. In English.”

Ryoichi grinned. He did like to talk about books. “Yeah, it’s my favorite.”

“I’ve never read it, I’m afraid. And certainly not in English.”

“No?”

Kuno shook his head. “Because of my grandfather, my father—he doesn’t like to hear English spoken in his presence.”

The waiter handed them menus. Filled glasses with clear water. Ryoichi looked at the list of foods in front of him with trepidation. They were listed in French, but they at least had a Japanese translation underneath.

“I’ve never heard of any of this stuff,” said Ryoichi. “My dad hates French food. Won’t even let it in the house.”

“Oh? Curious. What is the reason for his distaste?”

“Search me,” Ryoichi said, shrugging. 

“What do you normally have for dinner?”

“Oh, anything. Oden. Sushi. Fried chicken. Cheeseburgers, if we get takeout.”

“It appears you have one up on me again, Saotome,” said Kuno, looking over his menu with a smile. “I’ve never had a cheeseburger.”

Ryoichi slapped his menu down on the table. “What? Really?”

“Really.”

Without even thinking, Ryoichi unbuttoned the wrists of his shirt sleeves. Started to roll them up to his elbows. Looking around at the immense, elaborately decorated dining room, he shook his head. Plastered a grin on his face.

“We should get one.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look, it’s super nice of you to take me to a place like this. But this kinda stuff is over my head. It’s a lotta pressure, you know?”

“I apologize if I made you feel—”

“No, no, d-d-d-d-don’t apologize!” Ryoichi waved his hands, trying not to sweat. One of his legs started bouncing up and down. “You were just being nice. But, honestly, I’m a cheeseburger guy, you know? So we should—we should go get one.”

Kuno blinked. “Now?”

“Yeah,” said Ryoichi, firming up his grin. “Why not?”

Kuno stared back at him in wonder. There was something about Ryoichi’s smile that could convince you to do anything. 

“All right,” he said. “Let’s go find a cheeseburger.”

Kuno called over a waiter, apologized in French. Ryoichi found his stomach settling, his heart starting to slow to a normal pace. And then they were back outside, and he felt much lighter.

“I will call my driver—”

“Nah,” said Ryoichi, watching as Kuno lowered his phone. “It’s nice out. Let’s walk.”

This part of town was nice, mostly pedestrian walkways with patches of flowering shrubbery and cherry blossoms in full bloom. Ryoichi knew most of Nerima very well, though, having spent his childhood exploring as much as he could, wanting to be Harriet the Spy. 

“First book I ever read from beginning to end in English,” said Ryoichi, paying for their burgers at the small counter place tucked away down a side street.

“I’ve never even heard of it,” said Kuno.

“Oh? They made a movie. It’s not as good, though.”

The attendant passed them two cheeseburgers wrapped in blue paper. He handed one to Kuno and they walked back to the main street, shopfronts turning on their lights as night fell. Ryoichi eagerly unwrapped his food and took a big bite, smiling with satisfaction.

“Now that is what’s up,” he moaned, his mouth full of food.

Kuno nervously pulled the paper away from his own burger, looking at it with curiosity. 

“It does have a rather pleasant aroma,” he murmured softly. 

“Try it, try it,” Ryoichi urged him. 

Kuno took a deep breath. Opened his mouth. Took one bite.

“This is—” Kuno clutched his burger with both hands, his eyes growing large as if peering into a new world. “Delicious!”

Ryoichi laughed, watching as Kuno took another bite. “And these are cheap ones, too. They make fancy burgers with Wagyu beef and everything.”

Kuno swallowed his current mouthful. “Why didn’t we get one of those, then?”

“You always gotta start with the fundamentals,” Ryoichi said with a grin. “And there’s nothing more fundamental than a big greasy street burger from a hole in the wall.”

Kuno stared back at him in consideration. Back at his burger. “After experiencing this, I would have to agree.”

It was easier, for Ryoichi, after that. To make conversation as they strolled along under the cherry blossoms. Kuno was fairly sophisticated, had traveled the world. Ryoichi had only been out of the country once, to visit his Aunt Nabiki in America when he was twelve. Turned out that was one country Kuno had never been to. His father seemed to have some sort of grudge against anything related to the United States. Ryoichi pulled his tie loose. Unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. It felt better.

Ryoichi finished his burger at the same time Kuno did. He took the wrapper from the other boy and crumpled them together into one ball. Turned to the public trash can about twenty feet away. Completed a graceful hook shot and turned to Kuno in triumph. 

“Three points!”

“Is that a basketball reference?”

“Sure,” said Ryoichi. “Don’t you play?”

“No, I never have.”

“Really? But you’re so tall.”

“Yes,” said Kuno with a sigh. “I get that a lot.”

Ryoichi looked up at Kuno and laughed gently. “I’m sure you do.”

Kuno was staring back down at him and Ryoichi noticed the other boy’s mouth pull up at the corner into a smile of his own. He suddenly realized there was no one else out and about in the street, at least not anywhere nearby.

And then he was being kissed by a very handsome boy in a very nice suit as the cherry blossom petals floated down around them in the evening sky. Kuno had reached down, tilted Ryoichi’s chin up with his fingertips, just slightly. It wasn’t bad, as far as first kisses go. Ryoichi felt the heavy concrete of the milestone forming in the timeline in his life, even as his heart began to jackhammer in his chest. 

Kuno pulled away, smiling. Ryoichi returned the smile. Then his mouth began to quiver. He pressed his lips together and then slapped his hands over his face. 

Ran over to the same trash can he had thrown the burger wrappers in and puked his guts out. 

“Saotome! Are you all right? Are you ill?” 

Kuno was by his side in an instant, leaning over, concerned. Ryoichi straightened up, holding onto the sides of the trash can.

“I’m fine, I’m fine, I just—” His stomach gurgled ominously. “Nope.”

He bent over and barfed again, the burger gone, tasting much worse on the way back up.

“Was it the cheeseburger? Is the same thing about to happen to me?!”

Ryoichi couldn’t help but laugh wearily as he stood back up, wiping his mouth with the end of his tie. With a sigh, he sat down on the curb, bending his knees up, his feet wide, leaning his head between his legs. 

“No, it’s me,” moaned Ryoichi. “I’m a disaster.”

Kuno sat next to him, a little more gracefully, unbuttoning his suit jacket as he did. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“It’s my anxiety,” sighed Ryoichi. “It’s bad about stuff like this. Romantic stuff. Makes my stomach turn itself inside out.”

“You seemed so confident—”

“I am!” Ryoichi threw his hands up in frustration. “About most things. When it comes to dating—to boys—oh.”

He clutched his stomach. There was nothing left in there, so he just shook his head. 

“Is it because it’s—boys?” asked Kuno tentatively. “Do your parents not approve?”

“No, they do,” said Ryoichi. “They support me all the time, with everything. They are the problem though.”

“How so?”

“They have one of those, you know, happens in a movie type of love stories. The kind where they fell in love at first sight, are crazy about each other a million years later, people will write novels about it, that kinda thing.” Ryoichi grimaced and turned to Kuno. “It’s a lot to live up to.”

Kuno scratched his head. “Well, you’re not your parents.”

“Big of you to say, you look just like your dad!” Ryoichi sighed and turned his face downward again. “I look just like my dad, too, though.”

Kuno crossed his arms and tilted his head, deep in thought. “I don’t think it matters too much what we look like.”

“You’re probably right.” Ryoichi turned to him with a weak smile. “But also—oh boy. Oh no.”

“What’s wrong? Do you need to—”

“No, I just—oh.” Ryoichi took a deep breath. “I thought maybe I liked you. Because you were so handsome. And passionate, which is cool. And my stomach went crazy. But I think it was just my anxiety. I think—I think I just want to be friends.”

Ryoichi winced and crossed his arms over his stomach. He couldn’t bear to see the look on Kuno’s face if he hurt his feelings. 

“You know,” said Kuno. “Perhaps friendship is best. For now, at least.”

He stood, buttoning his suit jacket again. Offered one elegant hand down to Ryoichi.

“Come. Let’s get you home.”

* * *

_ When they were 38 _

“Thank you so much, Nabiki,” Akane said, hugging her sister as they entered the spacious condo in New York. 

“Anytime, anytime,” Nabiki replied, returning the hug. “How was Hawaii?”

“Oh, it was wonderful, wasn’t it Ranma?”

“Very relaxing,” he agreed, bearing his weight on his cane as he walked over to the couch in the airy living room. The place had an amazing view of the city skyline, floor to ceiling windows letting in massive amounts of sunlight. 

“Mom! Dad!” Twelve year old Ryoichi ran up to him from the hallway and tackled his father in a hug, sending them both onto the couch. Akane laughed and sat next to the pair as Ranma squeezed his son tight. 

“Did you have fun, Ryoichi?” she asked. 

“Sure! We went all kinds of places! We saw Hamilton!”

“What is Hamilton?” asked Akane.

“It’s a Broadway show,” replied Nabiki, sitting in a nearby chair. “Ryoichi’s English is even better than mine, so I thought he might enjoy it. But his knowledge of history is really the pits, guys. He literally had no idea George Washington was a real person.”

“What’s he need to know American history for?” grumbled Ranma. 

“The play was fun, though!” Ryoichi said eagerly. “I think maybe I’ll grow up to be a writer, too! Just like Alexander Hamilton!”

“Is that what you think Alexander Hamilton was?” asked Nabiki. “A writer?”

“You would be great at it, Ryoichi,” Akane said. She turned to her sister. “Where are the twins?”

“Oh, I think they’re napping with Nodoka and Grandpa Panda.”

“Just Grandpa Panda.” This statement came from Nodoka, entering the living room calmly. She smiled and walked over to the couch, giving Ranma a hug. And Akane a shorter, less fervent hug. Akane clenched her jaw and smiled, trying not to ball her hands into fists.

“Were they good for you, Mom?” Ranma asked. 

“Oh, of course. They’re great kids. A lot of energy, but great, really.”

Ranma held Akane’s hand as Ryoichi wiggled off of his lap and onto a couch cushion between his father and grandmother. 

“Akane does a great job wrangling them around,” he said. “She has more energy than they do, I swear.”

“Does she?” Nodoka asked politely. 

“She does,” Ranma replied in a firm tone.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Nodoka replied. “Keiko had given me the impression that she spent several days in bed before you left for your trip. I was worried she was ill.”

Ranma stiffened, his grip on Akane’s hand tightening. “She was fine. Just needed rest.”

“I’m right here!” yelled Akane. “Stop talking about me like I’m not!”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Nabiki shouted. “You two just got back from Hawaii! No need to start drama!”

“Me?” asked Akane. “I’m the one starting drama?”

“You and your husband!”

“Oh, fine, take her side,” Akane mumbled, crossing her arms and leaning back against the couch.

“There’s no sides, Akane, grow up—”

“Enough!” shouted Ranma, his deep voice booming around the room. The women around him fell silent, and Ryoichi brought his legs up onto the couch, hugging his knees to his chest. After several awkwardly silent moments, he took a deep breath. Spoke calmly. “You know what, Nabiki? We have a bit of jet lag. Just cranky, that’s all. Is it all right if we just turn in for now? Maybe just a nap.”

“Fine,” Nabiki said with a roll of her eyes. “The last room on the left is open.”

“Yes, I’m sure you need your rest,” Nodoka said in a neutral tone of voice. 

Ranma gripped the top of his cane tightly, but said nothing, pulling Akane up by the hand and walking with her to the guest room. Once the door was shut, he turned to her, expecting her to cry and fall into his arms.

She didn’t. She was mad, which was better to see.

“What is your mom’s problem?!” Akane hissed. “Why does she think I’m such a bad mom?”

“She doesn’t,” Ranma replied, although that was a lie. His mother had gotten drunk at the last Christmas party and spouted a bunch of crap about Akane that luckily his wife wasn’t around to hear. Nodoka had sobered up and apologized, but Ranma was reluctant to forgive. He never told Akane what his mother had said, because it would devastate her. But his mother had grown more and more passive-aggressive as she grew older, and was more than capable of breaking Akane’s heart all on her own. 

“I’m a good mom!” Akane said in a loud whisper, throwing her arms up as she paced back and forth around the room. “A great mom!”

Ranma smiled. “I agree.”

“She—” Akane pointed at the wall in the direction of the living room. “Thinks she can criticize my parenting?! Her?! Of all people!”

“I agree,” Ranma said again.

Akane flopped down onto the bed, her anger exhausting. “The messed up part is that I _was_ ill. I had a cold. A real one.”

“I know,” Ranma said. “But it shouldn’t matter either way.”

“I’ll show her,” Akane said, staring at the ceiling. “I’ll become an even better mom, rub it in her face.”

Ranma laughed. Sat on the edge of the bed, leaning his cane against the nightstand. “I support you.”

Akane tilted her face up to look at him. “Really? Even though it’s your mom?”

“Well, you’re my wife. Happy wife, happy life.”   


“Ranma—”   


“Also, you’re right. She shouldn’t be so critical of you. You’re a great mom, you know?”

“I know,” Akane said with a nod. She reached over and took his hand, interlinking her fingers with his. “You’re a great dad, too.”

“Oh sure,” Ranma replied. “But that was never in question.”

* * *

_ When they were 42 _

“And where were you?”

Ryoichi froze in the front door, his hand still on the light switch. His mother and father stood in the entryway by the stairs. His mother, in her robe, arms crossed. His father, a t-shirt and sweatpants, cane in hand, his eyebrows narrowed. And Rantaro, on the bottom step of the stairs, leaning against the bannister, a very amused smirk on his face.

“I was—” Ryoichi bared his teeth, his face stretching out stressfully. “Out.”

“Out?” asked Akane.”Where? You haven’t returned any of my texts or calls for hours!”

“I was just out, okay?!”

Akane bit her lip to keep it from quivering and said in a soft voice, choked with tears, “You always tell me where you’re going, Ryoichi. I’m your mother.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to fall for it, Mom.”

“Fine.” Her face snapped back into anger. “You should still tell me where you were.”

“Out! I was out!” He pushed Rantaro out of the way and began to storm up the stairs. Near the top, his father called out after him.

“Drugs?! Is it drugs?”

“What?” Ryoichi pivoted, one foot on the top landing. “No, it’s not drugs!”

“Then I don’t understand this behavior!” Ranma yelled. “Leaving the house in the middle of the night—”

“I left at six o’clock!”

“Not answering your phone! Being rude to your mother! This isn’t like you, Ryoichi!” Ranma grabbed Rantaro by his shirt collar. “Is it him? Is he a bad influence on you?”

“Hey,” Rantaro grumbled. “I was here the whole time, remember?”   


“Ryoichi, if you don’t tell us where you were—” Akane took a deep breath. Summoned up her courage. “Then you’re grounded!”

“Grounded?!” Ryoichi gasped. His parents had never grounded him before. Never needed to. “You wouldn’t!”

“I would so!” Akane yelled, pushing her glasses up. “Now are you gonna tell me or what?”

“Fine!” he shouted. Tried to suppress the tide of vomit rising in the back of his throat. “I was on a date!”

“A date? But I thought—” Akane looked over at Rantaro. Then back up at her son. “With who?”

Ryoichi blushed. Looked away. Muttered in a low voice, “Kuno.”

“Kuno?” Akane blinked.

Ranma let out one short laugh then immediately bit down on his cheek to prevent any more from escaping. 

“You mean Nobunaga?” Rantaro asked, his smirk reappearing.

“Yeah, what of it?!” Ryoichi cried, stomping one of his feet on the stairs. 

“That’s so—” Akane pulled her lips thin. She did not want to laugh. She did want to laugh. She would not. “That’s very nice, Ryoichi. Maybe I should give his father a call—”

“Noooooo!” her son shouted. “Absolutely not!”

“But if you two are going to be dating—”

“We’re not! We decided on just friends!”

Ranma let out a sigh of relief. 

“Oh, well, that’s all right,” said Akane. “We should still invite him for dinner—”

“No!” repeated Ryoichi. “Are we done now? I told you where I went!”

“Ah. Yes. I’m sorry. Go on to bed. Good night. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Ryoichi grumbled, turning away and marching to his room. 

Ranma, Akane, and Rantaro remained at the bottom of the stairs, looking at each other, listening as Ryoichi’s door opened and then slammed shut. Akane put one hand over her mouth. 

“Kuno,” she whispered.

“Nobunaga,” said Rantaro. 

The three of them promptly burst into simultaneous laughter. Guffawing until they held their stomachs, tears in their eyes. Rantaro reflexively reached out and rested his hand on Ranma’s arm in a fit of giggles. Ranma stopped laughing sharply and glared down at Rantaro.

“Hey! Hey hey hey hey hey hey! Don’t laugh at my son’s first date!”

“But you—”   


“Uh-uh. I can. I’m his dad. It’s my job. Now get outta here. Go to bed.”

Frowning, Rantaro turned and lumbered up the stairs, heading to the guest room. He slammed the door the same way Ryoichi had slammed his, and Akane let out a deep sigh. 

“None of us should laugh, really,” she said. “Ryoichi seemed so nervous about it.”

“He did,” said Ranma as they began the walk back to their own bedroom. “I’m still surprised he didn't tell us about it. He’s never kept secrets.”

“I suppose he’s finally entering his teenage rebellion phase.”

“About time,” said Ranma. He put his arm around her waist. “I just hope it’s not too late.”

“Too late?”   


“Every kid needs to be rebellious, sometimes,” Ranma said, shrugging. “It’s healthy.”

“I hope you’re right,” Akane replied, leaning into him and wrapping her arm around his back.

“I am, Akane,” he said. “I always am.”


	10. The Arrival

_ When they were 42 _

On Friday afternoon, Keiko sat up on her knees in the garden, pausing to pull a barrette out of her pocket. She quickly clipped her bangs back from her forehead. She had changed into overalls this time, in order to keep her school clothes clean. She never meant to make her mother upset—okay, sometimes she did—but most of the time it seemed to happen anyway. Her spinach was coming in very nicely, and it was time to put in strawberries, her first attempt at growing them. 

“How come you never grow anything cool, like a venus flytrap or something?” Mitsuko asked. She was sitting in an empty wheelbarrow nearby, her gaze focused on her Nintendo Switch.

“This is a vegetable garden,” said Keiko. “You don’t eat venus flytraps. They eat you.”

“They eat flies, dummy.”

“Why are you even out here?”

“I dunno. Just thought I should spend time with my sister.”

“Ew, gross,” Keiko replied, but smiled as she bent back over the soil. Sometimes it felt like her and Mitsuko really were twins after all. 

A shadow fell over Keiko from behind, and she turned to look up, squinting at the figure blocking out the sun.

“Excuse me, young ladies,” said a deep, somewhat familiar voice. “Is this the Tendo dojo?”

Both Keiko and Mitsuko turned and looked at the wooden sign next to the front door that read TENDO DOJO in large, friendly characters. 

“Yeah man,” said Keiko.

“Ah, finally. It’s been a long time.” 

The figure stepped back, unblocking the sun, and now she could see that it was a tall, extremely broad shouldered and muscular man wearing an old, faded henley shirt and canvas pants. He had a bulging rucksack strapped to his shoulders, a red umbrella attached to the top. His black hair hung in his eyes, and his thick dark beard needed a trim.

“Rantaro’s dad, huh?” asked Keiko, sticking her spade upright in the dirt.

The man blinked down at her. “How did you know?”

“Well you look just like him,” said Mitsuko. “If he was like fifty and also half Hugh Jackman’s Wolverine."

“I can see that,” agreed Keiko.

“I’m forty-two,” the man grumbled, frowning. “I’m just out in the sun a lot.”

Mitsuko rolled her eyes and returned her attention to her Switch. 

“Also you’re lost, right?” Keiko asked smugly.

“Not anymore!”

“Whoa, bud, you getting defensive in a conversation with a nine year old? How embarrassing for you.” Keiko grinned, scrunching her nose to lift her glasses up her face. Some adults got worked up so easily, and she could pick ‘em out of a crowd every time. 

“Listen,” the man growled, flustered. “Is my son here?”

“He’s at work with Dad,” said Mitsuko without looking up.

“Work? With Ranma? Doing what?”

“My dad bakes, but Rantaro does the dishes,” replied Keiko.

“He has Rantaro doing dishes?!”

“Oh, we’re supposed to just let him stay here for free?” Keiko looked over at her sister, holding up one hand and making a “pfft” noise. Mitsuko mirrored the gesture, and the two alternated this motion back and forth, their “pffts” becoming higher and higher in pitch and comedic exasperation.

The man’s exasperation was very real, however. He grabbed the straps of his pack and spread his feet wide. “Now listen here—”

“Ryoga-kun!”

Akane shot out of the house and barreled into her old friend, throwing her arms around his chest, although he was so broad now her hands couldn’t meet behind him. For him, it felt like slow motion, as the force of it caused him to stumble back a step and his breath to hitch momentarily. And he hadn’t heard her voice in so long.

Akane pulled back to look up at him and smiled and Ryoga felt his irritation disappear. 

“Akane-san,” he said, returning her smile. “You look exactly the same.”

She laughed and shook her head, her short hair floating for a second with the motion, the multitude of silver strands reflecting the sunlight. “That’s the biggest lie you’ve ever told, P-chan.”

“P-chan?” Keiko and Mitsuko said to each other. 

“It’s true,” said Ryoga earnestly. “I mean, the glasses are different. But other than that, you’re exactly the same.” 

“Oh, but you—” Akane touched his face gently. “You have a beard.”

“You like it?”

“I do,” she said, smiling and taking her hand away. “Come inside. I’ll make you some tea.”

Akane turned and walked inside. Ryoga hesitated before following. Once he reached the door, he took a deep breath, and for the first time in over a decade, stepped inside the Tendo dojo.

But it wasn’t really the dojo, was it? Just the Tendo household. And not the Tendo household anymore. All Saotome now. Ranma had two daughters as well as Ryoichi. Ryoga hadn’t even known. The two girls were behind him as he walked into the living room, sitting down across the table from him as Akane prepared tea. Their big eyes stared up at him with an unsettling eagerness. They both looked like a perfect combination of Akane and Ranma, but in opposite ways. They could only be a year apart at most. Twins, maybe? Fraternal. 

“Rantaro’s dad,” said the one with glasses. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

“You have?”

She nodded, her grin exactly like Ranma’s. “Yeah. We have big plans.”

Ryoga frowned. He was not trying to get involved with any Saotome related plans.

“Here we go, Ryoga-kun,” Akane said as she entered the room, carrying a tray with a teapot and several cups. She took a seat and began to pour the tea and pass some to Ryoga and the children. The girls took theirs eagerly and loaded their drinks with sugar.

“They enjoy tea as much as you, Akane-san.”

“Oh yes,” she replied. “I probably shouldn’t let them have all that caffeine, but it honestly doesn’t seem to make much of a difference. They’re never tired.”

Ryoga smiled. “I didn’t know you had daughters.”

“Mmm. This is Keiko, and Mitsuko. Twins.”

“Ah, I thought so. And where is—” Ryoga found his voice stumbling on asking after his namesake. 

“Ryoichi? He has kendo club today, I think.”

“Kendo? But I thought—”

“Things have changed, Ryoga-kun.” Akane’s voice and eyes turned slightly cold. He looked away in shame. “At least, a little.”

Ryoga stared down at his mug of tea, watching the steam swirl slowly upward. He wrapped his hands around it, letting his fingers take in the warmth. 

“I’m sorry, Akane-san,” he said softly. “I never apologized. I should have. I never meant to—I hurt you both.”

He looked up at her, his eyes mournful under his heavy brows, his mouth not visible through his thick beard. Akane met his gaze, letting her own tea cool on the table. 

She reached out. Gently touched his forearm with her fingertips. Smiled.

“It’s all right, Ryoga-kun. I forgave you a long time ago.”

He crossed his arm over and put his hand on top of hers. Smiled back. Tried not to cry.

“Sorry for what?” asked Keiko.

Akane pulled her hand away and looked at her daughter. “Don’t be nosy, Keiko-chan.”

“Why?”

“It’s an adult matter.”

“Why?”

“You’re too old for this.”

“I’m getting mixed messages, here.”

Akane sighed. “Keiko—”

“We’re home!”

Ryoga stiffened. It was Ranma’s voice, coming from the front door. He hadn’t heard it in a long time. Oddly, he found himself standing, pulling down the hem of his shirt. He hated to admit it, even to himself, but he had missed Ranma. But Ranma probably hadn’t missed him. 

Footsteps. Different. A soft thudding accompanying them. Right. Of course. 

“Ryoga.”

Ranma was right in front of him, as fit as ever. Ryoga could tell by the way he held his weight, the way he gripped his cane, that Ranma was in pain, even though the only expression on his face was pure rage. Guilt rushed through Ryoga’s chest, then irritation, then anger, then guilt again. Rantaro was standing slightly behind Ranma, eyes wide. 

“Ranma.”

The two men said nothing else, standing still as they glared at each other furiously. The twins looked back and forth at the two men as if watching a tennis match. Akane sighed deeply, taking a sip of her tea. 

Rantaro cleared his throat. “Dad—”

“Rantaro, get your things, we’re leaving,” Ryoga said, looking away from Ranma and at his son. 

“What? No, I was supposed to film a TikTok with Ryoichi today—”

“A TikTok?!”

“It’s an app,” said Ranma smugly.

“I know what it is!” Ryoga snapped.

Ranma frowned. 

Akane stood up, placing a hand on Ryoga’s back. “You know, our sons have become quite good friends—”

“It doesn’t matter. He’s enjoyed your hospitality long enough. We’re going.”

“No, Dad!”

“I need him to do the dishes,” said Ranma. “He’s good for something, unlike you.”

Akane grabbed the collar of Ryoga’s henley to prevent him from pouncing on her husband and had to maintain a tight grip to keep him restrained. 

“Ranma! That’s enough!”

“No it’s not!” Ranma shouted. “Rantaro can stay, Ryoga can leave!”

“No!” Akane pushed Ryoga behind her and glared up at her husband. “They’re both staying!”

“Absolutely not—”

“This is my house,” Akane asserted. “And if I say they stay, they stay!”

“Oh, so you want to play that game, Akane?!”

“Yeah! Let’s play that game!”

Ryoga rolled his eyes. “I don’t even want to stay—”

“Shut up!” Ranma and Akane yelled at him in unison. 

They turned back to each other and resumed their argument. 

“You wanna have a power play with me?” Ranma asked. “I’m the man of the house!”

“You know better than to pull that crap with me, Ranma Saotome!”

“You can’t tell me what to do, Akane Tendo!”

“You’re trying to dictate what goes on in this house with no input from me! I won’t have it!”

“You’re doing the same thing!”

“You’re being ridiculous! Holding a grudge over something that happened almost fifteen years ago!”

“I’ll hold it till the day I die!”

He wouldn’t, but he didn’t know that yet.

“See? Ridiculous!”

“No more ridiculous than this idiot—” Pointed at Ryoga. “Firing his son up into some sort of blood feud against me!”

“I did no such thing!” Ryoga shouted. “If it were up to me, he would never have seen your ugly face!”

“Dad, you told me—” Rantaro stepped into the middle of the group. “You told me he was your biggest rival. The best martial artist in the world!”

“Did I?” asked Ryoga, losing some of his steam. 

Rantaro nodded. “You said anyone who could beat him in a fight was worthy of your respect like nobody else could be!”

“Did I?” Ryoga repeated, his voice growing higher in pitch. 

“Yes!” Rantaro shouted in exasperation. “And I wanted to show you that I could! I wanted your respect! I wanted you to be—proud of me.”

His voice shook on the last statement. He didn’t want to cry. Not in front of his dad. Not in front of Ryoichi’s whole family. 

“Is that why Ryoichi called me?” asked Ryoga. 

“Ryoichi called you?” asked Ranma. 

Ryoga ignored him. Moved closer to his son. Put one large, strong hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I’ve always been proud of you, Rantaro. I promise.”

Rantaro smiled up at his dad, holding back tears. “Thanks Dad.”

Ryoga smiled back at him, his hand remaining on his son’s shoulder.

“Hug him,” said Keiko. She balled her hands into fists and gently banged them on the table. “Hug him. Hug him. Hug him. Hug him.”

Ryoga and Rantaro looked over at her, identical expressions of confusion on their faces. 

Mitsuko grinned and joined her sister in chanting. “Hug him! Hug him! Hug him! Hug him! Hug him! Hug him!”

Akane smiled and clapped rhythmically along with her daughters. “Hug him! Hug him! Hug him! Hug him!”

Ryoga raised one eyebrow and looked over at Ranma.

Ranma shrugged. “You better hug him. They won’t stop.”

“Hug him! Hug him! Hug him! Hug him! Hug him!”

Ryoga sighed and pulled his son into his arms, holding him against his chest. Akane and the girls cheered as Rantaro blushed and hid his face, but returned the hug.

“This place is crazy, Dad,” Rantaro mumbled.

“I know, son,” Ryoga said, patting him on the back. “I know.”

Akane smiled as father and son pulled away from each other. “See? It all worked out. Keiko, Mitsuko, why don’t you show these two the guest room, hmm?”

Ranma frowned but said nothing. Even Ryoga had seemed to forget he was here to get Rantaro and leave, and quietly followed the girls out of the room and up the stairs. Once they were gone, Akane turned to Ranma and took one of his hands in both of her own. 

“He shouldn’t be here,” said Ranma. “I don’t like this.”

“Come on, Ranma,” Akane said. “We promised the twins a parent trap.”

Despite himself, Ranma smiled. “Right. I almost forgot about the parent trap.”

“Trust me,” Akane said. “They did not.”

* * *

_ When they were 39 _

Ryoichi woke up before his parents on a Monday during winter break. He had received a coffee maker from his grandmother for Christmas and was eager to try it out for the first time. 

Unfortunately, his mother woke up before it was done brewing and walked into the kitchen, tying her robe closed.

“What’s that smell?” Akane asked as she walked through the door.

“Uhh—” Ryoichi couldn’t think of anything to say as he held a mug that bore the face of Spongebob Squarepants.

“Is that coffee?” she asked in shock.

“Maybe,” Ryoichi murmured. 

“You brought coffee into the house?!”

“I wanna be a writer!” Ryoichi said. “Writers drink coffee!”

Akane pursed her lips together before shouting down the hallway. “Ranma! Ranma, come here!”

Ranma sleepily stumbled into the kitchen and leaned against the doorframe. “What is it?”

“Your son—” She pointed at Ryoichi. “Brought coffee into the house!”

Ranma sighed. “Oh no, how dare he.”

“Yes, how dare he!” Akane asserted, putting her hands on her hips. “This is a tea house! We drink tea here!”

“I don’t know what the big deal is,” Ryoichi muttered. “Dad has coffee at work all the time.”

Akane turned on her husband. “Is that true, Ranma?”

“It’s a bakery, Akane!” he said in exasperation. “People want coffee with their donuts!”

“Well I don’t see why they can’t have tea instead!”

“We have tea, too! But different people want different things!”

“Preposterous,” Akane grumbled, crossing her arms. 

“Preposterous,” Ryoichi agreed. He held his mug by the handle with one hand, feeling adult. “Can I drink this now?”

Akane sighed and waved her hand. “Fine, fine. Take it out of here.”

“Thanks, Mom!” Ryoichi grinned and rushed out of the room as fast as he could while holding a hot mug of coffee.

“Although I don’t know how I’ll ever get over this utter betrayal!” she called after him. With another sigh, she turned back to Ranma. “Where did he even get a coffee maker, anyway?”

Ranma winced. “My mom gave it to him.”

“I see.” Akane pressed her lips into a tight line. 

“She didn’t do it to get under your skin, he wanted one—”

“I’m sure,” Akane said, her voice flat. 

“Akane—”

“No, no, no, it’s fine,” she said, walking over to the kitchen table. She gripped the edge, digging her nails into the wood. “It’s absolutely fine.”

* * *

_ When they were 42 _

“So how was kendo today?” Rantaro asked Ryoichi as they set up in the dojo to film. “Did you get to spend time with Nobunaga? Your lover?”

“Shut up,” Ryoichi muttered, blushing as he fiddled with his phone. “I told you we decided to be friends!”

“Whatever you say,” Rantaro replied with a smirk. “I looked him up on instagram, though. He’s a pretty handsome dude.”

“Whatever,” grumbled Ryoichi. “You’re just trying to avoid talking about your dad.”

“No, I’m not,” replied Rantaro with a frown, although he was. “Why would I?”

“Mitsuko snapped that whole fight,” Ryoichi said. “It’s obvious it’s your dad’s fault that he and my dad aren’t friends anymore.”

“You don’t know that,” Rantaro said, crossing his arms. “Not for sure.”

“Did you ask him why then?”

“No.”

“Because you know it’s his fault!”

“It could be your dad’s fault!” yelled Rantaro. “He’s almost as obnoxious as you are!”

“Oh, yeah, for sure,” said Ryoichi. “Which is why it’s surprising that it’s definitely your dad’s fault this time.”

“Guys, guys!” Keiko and Mistuko ran into the dojo and skidded to a stop in front of the boys.

“What’s up?” asked Ryoichi.

“I had a great idea to start our parent trap!” said Keiko, her glasses glinting in the light. 

“Aunt Nabiki is still in America—”

“That’s fine! She doesn’t need to be here for this part, anyway. But—” Keiko screwed up one side of her face. “We do need Dad’s help.”

“We can guilt him into it,” Mitsuko said. “He did promise us.”

Ryoichi scratched his chin. “I dunno, that argument was pretty intense—”

“Are you gonna deny us our life long dream?” asked Keiko. 

“Of course not—”

“Good. Rantaro, you still in?”

Rantaro looked at all three Saotome children’s curious faces. He was having trouble remembering why he thought the parent trap thing was a good idea in the first place. Especially after watching Ryoichi’s dad not just fight with his own father, but his wife too. Maybe they had caused enough trouble already. But Ryoichi was smiling wide, and that was very persuasive.

“Sure,” said Rantaro. “What do you need me to do?”

“Just get your father in the right place at the right time,” said Keiko.

“Did you forget about my whole direction thing?”

“Oh no, I remember,” she replied. “We’re gonna use that.”

Growing bored, Mitsuko cast her eyes around the room and noticed their phone setup. “Hey, can we be in your TikTok?”

“I thought we were talking parent trap plans—”

“I wanna make a TikTok!” said Keiko excitedly.

“Dad said no pictures of you guys on the internet until you’re twelve,” Ryoichi replied.

Mitsuko rolled her eyes. “Can we at least learn the dance, then?”

“I don’t—”

“Sure,” said Rantaro. “I’ll teach you. It’s not hard.”

Surprised, Ryoichi smiled and stepped back. Watched as Rantaro patiently led his sisters through the motions of the dance. Much more patiently than he had ever taught Ryoichi. The girls were quick learners, although Keiko was a little more naturally coordinated than her sister. It only took a few walkthroughs before the kids had it memorized. Ryoichi picked up his phone and recorded one performance, but told the twins he wasn’t going to post it. They all gathered around and watched it together and Ryoichi found Rantaro’s head was very close to his as they leaned over his phone screen. 

He kept his eyes on the video. In particular on Rantaro’s face, which was smiling throughout the whole thing. The fact that Rantaro had gotten on so well with his sisters was unexpected. Then again, they were good kids. Ryoichi liked spending time with them. Why shouldn’t Rantaro?

And then it was dinner time, Ranma having prepared bacon wrapped pork tenderloin. Ryoga did not come out of the guest room, however, and so his dig went unappreciated, except by Rantaro, who provided no reaction. After dinner, Rantaro went to the guest room to check on his father, who he found sitting on the floor, crosslegged, staring out of the window. 

He took a seat next to Ryoga and the two were quiet for a long time. Rantaro had missed sitting in silence with his dad. They had spent some of their best times like this. 

“Rantaro,” Ryoga said finally. “You shouldn’t have come here.”

“Dad, what did you do?” 

“I said something unforgivable.”

“That’s it? You just said something?” Rantaro asked. “What was it?”

Ryoga just shook his head.

“Come on, Dad. I’m tired of all the secrets and mysteries. I got here and everything was—it wasn’t like you said! Why?”

Ryoga turned to his son. His back was slumped, his shoulders low. Outside, the sky grew dark with storm clouds and it began to rain. 

“All right,” said Ryoga, followed by a roll of thunder. “I’ll tell you.”

* * *

_ When they were 27 _

“Here he is!”

Ranma grinned and immediately lifted Rantaro out of the carrier strapped to Ryoga’s chest as he and Akane walked through the front door.

“Bonding already?” Ryoga asked, smiling as he took off his shoes. 

“Of course, he’s named after me! We’re just like identical twins,” Ranma said, bouncing the baby on his hip. 

“You didn’t even say hi to me,” Ryoga said, still smiling.

“Hello, Ryoga,” Ranma said and turned away, walking towards the living room. “Now, Rantaro, as I was saying—”

Akane laughed and patted Ryoga on the shoulder. “You know how he is with babies.”

“I do,” Ryoga replied, unbuckling the carrier and setting it on top of his shoes. “Now where’s yours?” 

“Probably in his playpen,” Akane said as she led Ryoga to the living room.

Indeed, Ryoichi was set in a pack and play, his little face pressed against the mesh, yelling random noises. Upon seeing Akane, he stretched his arms up and started yelling “Mama! Mama!”

Akane grinned and picked him up, sitting next to Ranma at the table, who had Rantaro in his lap. Ryoga took a seat as well, happy to be with his favorite people. Rantaro was fourteen months old to Ryoichi’s eighteen, but nearly as big. 

“Is Rantaro talking yet?” asked Akane.

“No,” said Ryoga. “He’s a very quiet baby. Although I suppose that benefits Akari more than me. She didn’t even want me to take him. She walked me onto the train and made me promise not to move until you came and picked me up.”

“Well,” said Ranma. “She kinda has a point.”

“Yeah,” said Ryoga with a sigh. “I guess she does.”

“Well you’re here now,” said Akane with a smile as Ryoichi wiggled in her arms. She let him go and he stood, holding onto the edge of the table. 

“Aah, Rantaro can walk too,” said Ryoga. “And he’s got a grip that could break your finger.”

“Really?” asked Ranma. He set Rantaro down and the baby pulled himself up on the table, taking a few shaky steps over to Ryoichi, who he promptly smacked in the face. Ryoichi started crying and Akane picked him up and put him back in his playpen, where he grabbed onto a plastic toy and shoved in his mouth.

“Sorry,” said Ryoga. “He’s very physical.”

Ranma laughed. “I see that.”

“An opening!”

Mirai landed in the center of the living room table with a crash, posing on one knee, her fist down. Startled, baby Rantaro fell backwards onto his butt and began crying. Akane scooped him up and stood, trying to soothe him, but he didn’t settle as easily as Ryoichi had. 

“What the hell, Mirai?!” Ranma shouted, furious.

She pushed her glasses up her nose and grinned at him. “I was practicing _umisen-ken_! You didn’t even know I was on the ceiling, did you?”

“ _Umisen-ken_?!” Ranma frowned, his eyebrows narrowing. “Who taught you that?”

“Grandpa Panda, duh,” Mirai replied with an eye roll.

“I’m gonna kill my dad!” Ranma shouted, slapping the table with his palms. Glaring at Mirai, he added, “We told you! No more martial arts in this house!”

“But—”

“What do you mean?” asked Ryoga. “What do you mean, no more martial arts?”

Akane gave Ranma a worried look, still trying to soothe Rantaro as she cradled him against her shoulder. Ranma climbed to his feet, having to grab onto the door frame for balance. He yanked Mirai up by her shirt collar until she was standing as well. 

“I mean,” growled Ranma. “That we don’t do martial arts here anymore. They’re banned.”

Ryoga leapt up, walking over to the other side of the table. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No.”

“Is this—is this because of your leg?”

“I can’t teach martial arts if I’m using a cane, Ryoga!”

“Oh, come on, Ranma, you don’t need a cane—”

“Ryoga-kun.”

Ryoga looked over his shoulder at Akane, her big brown eyes full of concern and a warning. He turned back to Ranma.

“Do you?”

Ranma said nothing, just glared at him, and Ryoga saw his weight dip ever so slightly with a miniscule buckle of Ranma’s knee. Ranma released Mirai, who took a step back from the two men, being quiet for once.

“But Ranma, this is a dojo!”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that before,” said Ranma bitterly. “Doesn’t matter. Martial arts is nothing but trouble, and I won’t allow it here anymore!”

“But Ranma—” Ryoga turned to Akane. Looked back at her husband. “What about Akane? She doesn’t get to teach either?”

“Stay out of this, you idiot! It doesn’t affect you!”

“You’re the only one being an idiot!” Ryoga shouted. He didn’t know why he said what he said next. No idea what came over him. At least, he didn’t figure it out for a long time. 

Ryoga spread his feet apart. Angrily pointed his finger at Ranma. “You should be glad Akane’s father is dead so he doesn’t have to see you act like a failure—”

Ranma punched him in the face. It was the first time he had punched anyone in a while. The last time he would punch anyone for an even longer while. It was still strong enough to lay Ryoga out, flat on his back, his head hitting the floor with a _thud_.

“Get out,” Ranma spit down at him. “Get out and don’t come back.”

Stunned, Ryoga looked over at Akane. Her eyes were just as cold.

“I think you should leave, Ryoga,” she said. “I’ll call Akari and tell her to meet you at the train station.”

And then he left. Didn’t come back.

* * *

_ When they were 42 _

There was a flash of lightning. A crack of thunder. Rain splashed against the window, droplets making tiny clicking noises as they struck the glass. Rantaro stared at his father, who was staring at his lap, looking deeply ashamed.

Rantaro gritted his teeth. “That’s a—that’s a big yikes, Dad.”

“I know,” said Ryoga mournfully.

“You didn’t apologize?”

“I tried,” he said. “I sent letters. Got no response. Tried to call. Ranma just hung up as soon as he heard my voice.”

Rantaro bit his lip. It was all his dad’s fault. No wonder Ranma hated him so much. But, wait—

“So Ryoichi’s dad was a martial artist, then?”

Ryoga nodded. “He was the best.”

“He told Ryoichi—and me—that he wasn’t.”

“I guess he’s not, now,” said Ryoga. “He used to be.”

They went silent again, still facing each other, the only sound the storm outside. 

This time, Rantaro was the first to speak.

“His mom’s pretty good, though.”

“Akane-san?” Ryoga asked with a weak smile. “Did you fight her?”

Rantaro nodded. “Ryoichi too. They’re both way better than me.”

“Hmm,” Ryoga said, scratching his chin through his beard. “You probably have a few tricks up your sleeve that they don’t, though.”

“Can we stay, Dad?” asked Rantaro. 

Ryoga blinked. “You like it here?”

His son nodded. “Yeah. I help at the bakery.”

“Doing dishes,” Ryoga sighed. “I heard.”

“And I have a TikTok with Ryoichi.”

“You mentioned. Dancing?”

Rantaro nodded again. “Do you wanna see?”

Ryoga smiled genuinely. “Sure.”

Rantaro smiled too and scooted so he was next to his father, their backs against the wall under the window. As the rain poured down outside, he pulled out his phone and scrolled through videos, showing his father what he had accomplished.

And Ryoga was really, truly, proud of him.


	11. The Attempted Seduction of Ryoga Hibiki

_ When they were 42 _

“Hey, Dad.”

“What do you need, Keiko?” 

Ranma was alone in the living room with Keiko as Mitsuko helped Akane with the dishes in the kitchen after dinner. The young girl had sidled up next to him as they sat at the table, giving him her most adorable smile.

“So Rantaro’s dad is finally here—”

“Finally.”

“And that means we can officially start the parent trap!”

“Can we?”

“Yup! And you’re the first part of the plan!”

“I am?”

“Yup!”

“How so?”

She grinned. “Well, we do need to confirm that Rantaro’s dad is still in love with Aunt Nabiki. Otherwise our whole preparation will have been wasted!”

“What a tragedy that would be,” Ranma said with a sigh. 

“We need to find out if he’s interested in other girls,” said Keiko. 

“So?"

“Sooooo, Mom said that he used to always get tricked by you when you wore a disguise.”

Ranma clenched his jaw. “Did she?”

“Yup!”

Ranma scrunched up his face, staring at the ceiling and shaking his head. “And what is it you want me to do, Keiko?”

“Oh, you know,” she said, throwing her hands out in a “well, duh” gesture. “Seduce him.”

“Seduce him?!” Ranma shouted. “Where did you even learn that word?!”

“Television.”

“That’s it! No more TV until you’re twelve!”

“Dad!” Keiko yelled. “You don’t have to actually seduce him. Just try to! See if he falls for it.”

Ranma crossed his arms. “This is ridiculous.”

“Dad! You promised!”

“I didn’t promise to do this!”

“Dad,” said Keiko sternly. “Do you want me to start chanting ‘seduce him’ over and over again? I will! I will make things extremely uncomfortable for you!”

“Ugh, fine!” Ranma snapped. Glowering, he told her, “I’ll do it. But I am going to half-ass it.”

Keiko smiled in satisfaction. “I’ll take it.”

* * *

_ When they were 42 _

Ryoga woke up in the futon in the guest room, sunlight in his eyes, the rain of the night before long gone. The futon next to him was empty. Rantaro was probably at the bakery with Ranma. He yawned and stretched, grabbing for his phone sleepily to check the time. 9:12 A.M. Not that late. There was a text notification.

He unlocked his phone. It was from Rantaro.

_ >Dad I’m super lost. Can you come get me? _

Followed by a picture of some shrubs with a statue of a dog. 

Ryoga frowned. How had this happened? Probably got separated from Ranma on the way to the bakery. Still laying flat on his back, Ryoga typed out a reply message wit h his thumbs.

_ >>Don’t move. I’ll be there soon. _

With a groan, he sat up. His spine was stiff. Even though he was in great shape, ever since he hit thirty his lower back had seemed to turn against him, crying out for ibuprofen on the daily. He reached over to his pack and retrieved a bottle of pills, pouring out a handful and swallowing them dry.

Grumbling, he got to his feet and dressed, pants and a clean henley. Scratched his chin through his beard. He could procrastinate the trim a little longer. Sighed and headed into the hallway, where he ran into Ryoichi who was just coming out of his bedroom.

"Hey, Ranma's kid," Ryoga said, walking up to him and pulling out his phone.

"You know I'm named after you, right?" Ryoichi said with a smile.

Ryoga ignored the question and showed the teenager his phone screen. "Rantaro's lost. You know where this is?"

Ryoichi looked at the picture and raised one eyebrow. "Sure do. You want me to take you there?"

"Please."

Ryoichi grinned. He had been waiting in front of his bedroom door for almost two hours. At least Rantaro's dad had fallen for their bait. Now all he had to do was take him to the right place.

As Ryoichi led Ryoga through the streets of Nerima, however, he learned that Ryoga was even less of a conversationalist than Rantaro. Did this guy really date his Aunt Nabiki? 

"So then I said to the guy—" Ryoichi turned to face Ryoga as they rounded another corner, finishing a joke. "'I'm just a little bit blue.'"

He paused, waiting for a reaction from Ryoga.

He received none.

"Aw come on," Ryoichi said as they continued walking. "Don't you get it? 'I'm just a little bit blue.' It's a classic!"

"You have your father's sense of humor," Ryoga replied, straight-faced. 

"Thanks!" Ryoichi responded with a bright smile. "Ah, here we are."

They were in an open, paved area, the bushes and statue from the picture coming into view. Rantaro wasn't there. No one was there, except for a woman at the end of a bench in front of a shrub. 

“Where’s Rantaro?” Ryoga asked, looking around. 

“Not sure,” Ryoichi said. “Maybe he went to pee. Why don’t you sit down, I’ll go look for him.”

Ryoga nodded gruffly. His back did hurt still. Ibuprofen hadn’t kicked in yet. He took a seat on the other end of the bench from the woman already sitting there and pulled out his phone. Ryoichi left him, disappearing around one of the trees. 

Ryoga pulled out his phone. No more messages from Rantaro.

_> >Rantaro, I’m here. Did you leave?_

No reply. He started tapping his foot as he leaned back, scrolling through his twitter feed. 

“Excuse me.”

Ryoga raised one eyebrow as he looked up at the sound of the voice. The woman on the bench, smiling at him. Large eyes, a tight, low cut dress with a long skirt. 

“Yes?”

“Are you—” She slid down the bench closer to him. “Are you waiting for someone?”

“Yes.” He turned back to his phone without saying anything.

The woman sighed. “A girlfriend?”

“No.”

She crossed her arms. He kept scrolling through his phone. 

“Your wife?”

“I’m divorced.”

She propped her elbow on the back of the bench and leaned in closer to him. “So you’re single then?”

“Yes.” Still didn’t look up from his phone.

She balled one of her hands into a fist, trying not to let him see. 

“How long have you been single?” she asked, twirling one of her fingers in the ends of her hair.

“A while.”

“Would you be interested in—” Her voice sounded strained as she placed her hand on his forearm. “Not being single anymore?”

Ryoga finally looked up. Rolled his eyes. “What the hell do you want, Ranma?”

Ranma blinked. Yanked his hand away. “You knew it was me?”

“Of course I did, idiot. I’m not sixteen years old anymore. I’m not going to fall for your crappy disguises.”

Ranma frowned and ripped off his wig, throwing it on the ground. “Who coulda guessed you got smarter?”

“So what is the deal?” Ryoga asked, shoving his phone back in his pocket. “You trying to run around on Akane or something?”

“What? No! Guess you are still an idiot.”

“I just don’t understand the point of this.”

Ranma pouted and crossed his arms again. “The kids are trying to parent trap you with Nabiki.”

“Parent trap?”

“Yeah, like the movie. They want to get you two back together.”

“Huh.” Ryoga put his hands in his lap and looked forward. Tilted his head back and forth. Nodded. “Yeah, that sounds good. Let’s do that.”

Ranma’s jaw dropped open. “Really?”

“Sure. I’m still crazy about Nabiki. Always have been.”

Ranma turned his head, staring into space, muttering to himself. “Keiko is a genius.”

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Ranma sighed. “The kids are going to be so happy.”

“Damn right we are!” Keiko yelled, jumping out of a bush. Akane and Mitsuko poked their heads out as well.

“Keiko! What did I tell you about cursing?” asked Akane.

The young girl sighed. “Not until I’m twelve.”

“Why twelve?” Ryoga asked as Akane climbed out of the bushes.

She brushed leaves off the front of her clothes. “I mean, I really can’t stop them now, if I’m being honest.”

Ryoichi and Rantaro popped out from behind a tree. Ryoga raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“You guys were in on this too?”

“Yeah,” his son replied, awkwardly rubbing his neck. “You looked really happy in those old pictures. It seemed nice.”

Ryoga was quiet, looking back at Rantaro, unsure of what to say.

“Rantaro’s dad!” Keiko yelled, running up to Ryoga and taking one of his giant hands in both of hers. “You really wanna get parent trapped with Aunt Nabiki?”

Ryoga looked down at her giant, eager eyes. Over at Mitsuko. Akane. Ryoichi. Rantaro. And then, finally, at Ranma, who had his arms crossed while frowning deeply. He really hadn’t wanted to get caught up in something like this. With the whole Saotome family, plus his own son. Their plans would surely end up somewhere bizarre, like they always did.

He kinda missed that, though.

And he did still love Nabiki. A lot.

“Yeah,” he told Keiko. “I do.”

* * *

_ When they were 42 _

Akane sat on the train next to Yuka, her oldest friend and executive assistant, and let out a yawn. They were on the way to meet a new client. It was early morning still, and she was exhausted from the past two weeks. Ryoga and Rantaro living in her house while Ranma still hated Ryoga’s guts made things constantly tense. The two men consistently got into screaming matches over absolutely nothing. Rantaro and Ryoichi were frequently practicing dancing for their TikTok and asking her to post them on her stories. She always did.

Keiko and Mitsuko had gone all in on the parent trap, especially now that they knew Ryoga was fully supportive. The living room was quickly becoming covered in sheet after sheet of paper filled with weird diagrams and crossed out lists. None of them had figured out what they were going to do with Nabiki still in America. 

“Are you sure we can’t convince her to book the dojo instead?” Akane asked Yuka, looking at the pamphlet she had just been handed.

Yuka shook her head. “Nah. She’s super rich. Wants a fancy place.”

The Imperial Ballroom at Nakajima Tower was incredibly fancy. “This might be above my pay grade. We do middle class weddings.”

“They specifically requested you. Big fan of your work.”

Akane frowned. She could make a picture look good on instagram, but Imperial Ballroom good? Although even missing out on the fee for the dojo, she could probably make up for it and charge them extra, if they really were that rich. Although they definitely would want something nicer than all you could eat okonomiyaki or ramen from the Nekohanten. She had other caterers, of course, but did she know any this high class? 

Akane yawned again. She would work it out. 

_ Ding. _

Their stop. Akane and Yuka stood up, gathering their things. A messenger bag full of binders for Akane, a stack of notebooks and ledgers for Yuka. Together, they walked the block from the train station to Nakajima Tower. Once there, they took the elevator up to the Imperial Ballroom on the very top floor. Akane fidgeted nervously as she watched the numbers on the floor counter go up and up. Had she dressed nicely enough? She had worn her most professional skirt. But also a cardigan instead of a blazer. She should have worn a blazer. 

Another ding. The elevator doors opened and they walked through the spacious hallway to a set of gigantic wooden doors that opened into the Imperial Ballroom itself. It was one of the largest rooms Akane had been inside of in her life. Windows along one wall looked out on downtown Nerima, and they were so high up it was possible to see far into the distance where the curve of the earth started. Delicate chandeliers hung from the ceiling. Even unlit they were impressive, curving elegant glass pieces accented with tasteful gleaming metal. The floors were shiny, smooth wood, polished to perfection. The ballroom was mostly empty, a few tables and other objects shoved up against the walls, adorned with dustcovers.

Akane tried to hide her nervousness. How was she going to plan a wedding here? This was too much. What kind of person wanted to get married in a place like this?

“Akane-chan!”

Akane turned to see a man and woman walking through the doors, smiling at her. The man she didn’t recognize. Tall, light brown hair, very handsome, dressed in a gray suit. The woman, however, she knew very well. 

“Nabiki.”

Her older sister smiled and held out her arms as she walked towards Akane. With a sigh, Akane gave Nabiki a hug and a weak smile of her own. 

“You’re looking good, Akane. New glasses?”

“Same as before,” Akane replied. “Why didn’t you just call to tell me you were back in town?”

“I thought this would be more fun,” Nabiki said, eyes twinkling. 

Akane’s smile turned more genuine. “And here I thought I would have to plan a big fancy wedding.”

“Oh, but you do,” said Nabiki. 

“What?”

Nabiki gestured to the man next to her. “Akane, this is Blaine Watanabe. My fiance.”

“Pleasure.” The man flashed Akane a white-toothed smile and held out his hand. Akane, wide-eyed, shook it, bowing her head slightly. 

“Nabiki, you’re—” Akane dropped Blaine’s hand and stared, slack-jawed, at her sister. “You’re engaged?”

“Sure,” said Nabiki, smirking. “I figured it was about time to settle down. Get married. Move back to Japan. Permanently.”

This softened Akane a little. “You’re moving back here?”

“Yes,” said Nabiki, her smirk turning into a warm smile. “I am.”

“Oh, Nabiki!” Akane caught her sister up in another hug, a big one this time. She had missed Nabiki. Having one of her family across an ocean and the entire width of another country away from her had been so hard. When she finally pulled back, there were happy tears in her eyes. She looked over at Yuka. “You knew about this?”

Yuka smiled and nodded. “She thought it would be a nice surprise.”

“Oh, it is, it is!” Akane squeezed her sister’s hands. 

“Can’t wait to be part of the family,” said Blaine. “Can I call you onee-chan?”

“Onee-chan?” Akane blinked. “Nabiki is older than me.”

“Is she? My apologies,” Blaine replied. “I assumed, because of the gray hair—”

“Never mind that,” Nabiki said, gently pushing him by the chest. Akane’s eyes had grown huge behind her glasses. Nabiki stepped forward and pulled her away a few feet over to the window. “He’s half American, Akane, they speak their mind too much.”

Akane frowned. Suddenly she remembered the plot of The Parent Trap. She felt more supportive of her children than ever. 

A sudden realization struck her and she clutched her temple.

"Wait," Akane said. "If you're here, that means—"


	12. Share of Yourself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw for transphobia (misgendering, deadnaming) in this chapter

_ When they were 42 _

"Three steps, then a slide—"

"Right, a slide, then three steps—"

"Ryoichi!"

"Can't a guy make a joke anymore?"

Ryoichi flashed Rantaro a grin as they stood in the front garden. The spring blooms were coming in nicely and Ryoichi thought they would make a nice backdrop for their latest video. Keiko was sitting on her knees, bent over and pulling weeds, while Mitsuko sat in the wheelbarrow as usual, eyes on her Switch. 

"Hey, watch it!" Keiko yelled as her older brother missed his step and stumbled backwards, his heel landing on the edge of the vegetable patch.

"Sorry, sorry," Ryoichi said, bowing his head slightly. "This one is kinda tricky."

"Just keep your gigantic freak feet off my spinach," Keiko grumbled, bending over the plants again.

"My feet aren't that big," Ryoichi said. He turned to Rantaro. "Are they?"

The other boy shrugged. "Well—"

A huge, looming shadow enveloped the group just then, blocking out the sun. Keiko turned her eyes upwards, pushing her glasses up her nose. Her face broke into a big smile as she recognized the figure in front of her.

"Grandpa Panda!!!" all three Saotome children shrieked, jumping up and enveloping the big furry animal in front of them in enthusiastic hugs.

The panda seemed to laugh, its belly shaking as Mitsuko and Keiko clung to its fur as if it were Totoro. Ryoichi was a little too big for this, although he still had his arms wrapped as far around the panda as he could reach. 

Rantaro scratched his chin. So their grandfather was a panda. All right. His dad was a pig sometimes, after all.

"I hope you have some enthusiasm left for me," Nodoka said as she stepped out from behind her husband.

Ryoichi was the only one to let go of the panda and embrace his grandmother warmly. "Hey, Gran."

"Hello, Ryoichi." As they pulled back, she held onto him at arm's length as she smiled. "Look at you! So tall now! Almost as tall as your dad!"

"I'm getting there," he replied with a grin.

Bending down slightly, she turned to the two younger children, attached to their grandfather's stomach still. "Keiko? Mitsuo? Is there a hug for me?"

Mitsuko froze, her fingers digging into the panda's fur as she hid her face away.

Ryoichi stepped between the panda and his grandmother. "Mitsuko. Her name is Mitsuko."

Nodoka straightened her back and looked up at him, confused. "What are you talking about?"

"Didn't Mom and Dad tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

Ryoichi frowned. Rubbed the bottom half of his face with one hand.

"Hey Rantaro?" he called over his shoulder without turning his head. "Can you take the twins inside, please?"

"Uh, sure," Rantaro replied.

The two girls had released their grip on the panda's fur and slowly slid down to the ground, landing on their feet. Rantaro grabbed them around the waist, one in each arm, picked them up, and carried them through the front door. All the way into the living room, where his father sat scrolling through his phone. Mitsuko and Keiko wiggled out of his arms and Mitsuko sunk down, putting her head in her arms on top of the table. Keiko sat next to her and started rubbing her back.

"What's wrong?" asked Ryoga.

"Their grandparents are here," said Rantaro. 

"Oh?" Ryoga blinked. "They will not be happy to see me, that's for sure. But I'm sure they're happy to see Ryoichi and the girls—"

"Well, Ryoichi is talking to them about—about—" Rantaro hesitated, unsure of what to say.

"About me!" Mitsuko moaned, her face still hidden in her arms. "Everybody is gonna have to talk about me for the rest of my life!" 

"Why?" asked Ryoga, setting his phone down.

"Because I'm a girl!"

"Obviously," he replied, confused. 

"Dad," Rantaro said softly, then paused, considering his next words carefully. He wasn't sure how to explain to his father the situation. He did have a twitter account. He couldn't be completely ignorant of issues like this. And he used to be friends with Ryoichi's dad, who—

"She's like her dad," Rantaro said. "Only she wants to be a girl."

Ryoga furrowed his brow. Looked over at Mitsuko who was peering up over her arms with big round eyes. Back to Rantaro.

"Ah," he said. "I see. And Ranma's parents don't know?"

"Guess not," Rantaro said, sighing as he sat down next to his father. 

"Oh boy," Ryoga said as he puffed up his cheeks and let out a long exhale. "They both have weird hangups about masculinity."

Mitsuko's bottom lip started to quiver. "Are Gran and Grandpa Panda going to hate me now?"

"Eh?! No no no no no no!" Ryoga said in a panic. "Of course not! They wouldn't!" 

"They better not," said Rantaro. "They would be idiots if they did."

Ryoga looked at his son in surprise. Kinda proud he was so protective of these kids. Also worried. This house had a way of working you into the family without even realizing it. Was that what was happening to Rantaro?

Keiko suddenly stood up and ran out of the room. The others followed her upstairs, where she slid in her socks to the end of the hallway. Lifting herself up on her toes, she pressed her face to the window that overlooked the front yard. The others followed suit, with Rantaro lifting up Mitsuko so she could see over Keiko's head. 

Ryoichi was standing in front of his grandparents, down on the ground near the gates.

And he was screaming.

None of them could make out what he was saying. But his face was red, his posture tense, his arms making sharp, direct motions as he leaned over his grandmother's face. She stared up at him defiantly, occasionally opening her mouth to interrupt, and repeatedly being shut down.

"I've never seen Ryoichi so mad," whispered Keiko. "Specially not at a grown up."

Rantaro hadn't known Ryoichi very long. Just over a month now. But this behavior did seem out of character for him. He could be loud, sure. Annoyed, embarrassed. But angry? 

Keiko stretched her arms up and unhooked the window latch. Opened it just an inch, letting the voices from below come in clear.

"—and you have a son that turns into a girl!"

"That has nothing to do with—with—with whatever this is! Mitsuo is a child—"

"Mitsuko!" shouted Ryoichi. "Is more sure of herself than anybody in this stupid house!"

"This is Akane's fault, she coddled him too much—"

"It's no one's fault! It's not a bad thing! And Mom has nothing to do with it!"

"Indulging him in this phase—"

"Not a phase!"

Mitsuko put her arms around Rantaro's neck and started sobbing silently. Ryoga reached over the group and closed the window, locking it shut.

"That's enough of that," he said. He looked at the three children in front of him. Mitsuko, still crying in Rantaro's arms as he held her up. Keiko, looking furious and scared behind her glasses.

"All right," he said with a sigh. "Let's—let's get you some tea."

Rantaro blinked. "Tea, Dad? Really?"

"Yeah," said Ryoga. "It's what their mother would do, right?"

He looked down at Keiko, who nodded up at him, her expression softer. With another sigh he turned to walk down the hall and was startled when she slipped her tiny hand into his huge one and squeezed. Ryoga shook his head and squeezed back before leading her downstairs.

Stupid Ranma and his stupid adorable children. He could feel it, the house pulling him in. Affection growing in his heart. Stupid! He had worked all this out years ago.

Hadn't he?

* * *

_ When they were 30 _

"He's old enough to go, Akari—"

"He's a baby!"

"He's four!" 

Ryoga's ex-wife put her hands on her hips. "Four is too young to be camping out in the middle of nowhere with no idea when you'll be back!"

"I did it when I was his age!" 

They were standing in the middle of the long dirt drive that led up to the Unryuu farm. Shouting at each other for nearly thirty minutes now. Ryoga had dropped his pack on the lawn a while ago. Ryoichi was still inside the farmhouse with Akari's parents, and her new husband. Whom he hated. Not out of jealousy. Or at least, he wasn't jealous over Akari. He was jealous that guy got to spend way more time with his son than Ryoga did.

"And look how that worked out for you," Akari said with a roll of her eyes. "You're still a mess! When was the last time you even shaved?"

He rubbed his chin disdainfully. The facial hair had definitely passed the stubble stage. That was none of her business, though. 

"Who cares?" Ryoga growled through gritted teeth. "Rantaro is going to have to learn how to camp out and be on his own soon enough anyway!"

"We don't know that!" Akari placed one of her hands, palm flat, against her breastbone. "We don't know for sure that he has your—your—your directional insanity!"

"Are you kidding?" asked Ryoga, holding out one of his arms and gesturing behind her. "He's right there!"

Akari spun around to see Rantaro, only wearing a pair of blue cotton shorts with no shirt, standing about twenty feet away in between her and the farmhouse.

"Rantaro!" she cried as she and Ryoga ran over to him together. "What are you doing out here?"

"I got lost," the boy replied and then stuck three fingers in his mouth. 

Akari sighed. Picked him up and held him on her hip. Looked over at Ryoga and his very concerned eyebrows. 

"Rantaro," she said. "How'd you like to go on a trip with Daddy?"

* * *

_ When they were 42 _

Akane slammed her back against the wall of the elevator as she pulled out her phone and frantically dialed Ranma. Yuka cautiously stepped on and stood near the doors, pressing the button for the lobby. Akane listened to the other end ring and ring, shaking her head as she stared up at the ceiling and the elevator doors closed. 

“Yo, it’s Ranma, leave a message and—”

“Ugh!” Akane hung up her phone, not knowing that currently in the Anything Goes Bakery that Ranma had left his phone in the back room while he was in the kitchen, running several electric mixers at once. “Yuka, what’s Hiroshi’s number?”

“What? Why—why would I have Hiroshi’s number?”

“I know you two hooked up for like two weeks after the last Christmas party! Just give me the number!”

Yuka frowned and blushed but pulled out her phone. She gave the number to Akane who frantically dialed it, trying not to panic. 

“Yallo?”

“Hiroshi! It’s Akane! Where’s Ranma? He’s not answering his phone!”

“Akane? Uh—he’s elbow deep in some fondant. I’ll grab him. Is everything okay? Something wrong with the kids?”

“I don’t know.”

A sound of shuffling. Silence for a few moments. 

“Akane? What’s wrong?”

“Ranma! Why didn’t you answer the phone?!”

“I left it in the back! What’s going on?”

“Nabiki is back in town. She’s moving here. Permanently.”

“Uh, good, I guess. Why are you calling me right now though?”

“If she’s here, who do you think came here with her?!”

“I—oh, right. Yeah, Mom and Pop. It will be good to see them again.”

“Ranma! Where do you think they are right now?!”

“Probably at the house, I guess. What’s the big deal?”

“Ranma. Who else is at the house?”

“Ryoga. That will be pretty funny. And the kids, I guess.”

“Right. Our children. Our son. And daughters.”

“ . . . ah. Oh right. Ah, damn. Well, I mean, it will probably work out—”

“Will it, Ranma? Will it really?”

“Well—oh shit. Akane, I gotta go. Mom’s here.”

“What, wait, Ranma—”

_Boop_.

Akane frowned down at her phone. Sighed deeply and saved Hiroshi’s number in her contacts. 

“Akane?” Yuka asked. “Is everything all right?”

Akane cast her friend a weary gaze. 

“Probably not.”

* * *

_ When they were 42 _

“I won’t be talked to this way any longer! It’s disrespectful!”

Nodoka stared up at her grandson, still in the front yard, as he glared back down at her in fury. 

“Fine then,” he said. “Leave!”

“I will.” She turned on her heel and began to walk out of the gates. She turned to the panda. “Genma?”

The panda looked over at Ryoichi. Back at her. Shook its head. 

Nodoka set her mouth in a tight line. “Fine.” 

She walked out of the gates without looking back again, leaving Ryoichi and the panda to watch as she left. Ryoichi felt his anger leave him almost immediately, being replaced by a crushing sadness in his chest. Clouds started to form in the sky above. He looked over at his grandfather who was staring back at him. 

“Grandpa,” he said softly. “You understand? About Mitsuko?”

The panda blinked its eyes slowly before giving Ryoichi a single nod. Ryoichi smiled. 

“All right,” he said. “Let’s go inside.” 

The panda followed Ryoichi through the front door, squishing through the opening and lumbering into the living room after its grandson. Ryoga had set the others up with their own cup of tea. Mitsuko looked up fearfully as her brother and grandfather entered the room.

“Hey guys,” Ryoichi said in the cheeriest voice he could. “Gran went to take a walk. But Grandpa Panda is gonna hang out for a bit, okay?”

“Does Gran hate me?” Mitsuko whispered. 

“Of course not,” said Ryoichi, unsure of what else to say, how to comfort her. He didn’t need to, because the panda placed one large paw on top of the girl’s head, rubbing her hair affectionately. Mitsuko looked up at it, blowing her now mussed bangs out of her face. 

The panda held up a sign. _My favorite granddaughter._

Mitsuko smiled wide and hugged her grandfather, burying her face in the panda’s stomach. 

“Hey,” said Keiko. “What about me?”

Another sign. _Second favorite._

Keiko tilted her head. “I kinda get that.” 

Ryoichi let out a relieved laugh and took a seat next to Rantaro on the opposite side of the table from his sisters and grandfather. “Thanks for making them tea, bud.”

“I didn’t,” said Rantaro. He nodded in the direction of his father. “Dad did.”

Ryoichi looked to the head of the table where Ryoga sat, smiling awkwardly. His grandfather looked over at the same time and began holding up a flurry of signs. 

_ Ryoga? What are you doing here? What happened? Who is this kid?” _

“Oh geez,” sighed Keiko and threw the remainder of her tea on him. 

Genma quickly cleaned his glasses on the front of his gi and glared over at Ryoga. “What the heck are you doing here, Ryoga?”

“Uh—” Ryoga scratched his beard with his index finger. “That is an excellent question."

“It’s my fault,” said Rantaro. “He came here because of me.”

“And who are you?” asked Genma, crossing his arms suspiciously.

“This is my best friend, Rantaro,” replied Ryoichi.

“Best friend?!” shouted Rantaro.

“Sure,” Ryoichi said. “Why not?”

“Rantaro?” Genma looked back and forth between the boy and Ryoga. “Your son?”

“Yeah,” said Ryoga nervously. 

Genma narrowed his eyes. “Are you and Ranma—are you friends again?”

Ryoga lowered his head. Looked away. “No.”

“Oh my gosh!” Keiko shouted, slapping her hands on the table. “I just had the best idea!”

“What is it?” asked Mitsuko.

“We should parent trap Dad and Rantaro’s dad into being friends again!”

“Yes!”

“Oh, like that movie you two like,” said Genma. 

“Yeah, they’re already trying to parent trap him with Aunt Nabiki,” said Ryoichi, smiling.

“Oh?” asked Genma. “Should be easier, now that Nabiki is back in town.”

“Nabiki’s here?” Ryoga asked in surprise. His spine had stiffened as he looked towards Genma with hope in his eyes. “In Japan? In Nerima?”

“Yes,” said Genma. “We’re moving back here.”

“Really?!” all three Saotome children shouted at once.

“Yes, really!”

Mitsuko and Keiko hugged their grandfather tight. Ryoga also started smiling. 

“It could really happen,” he said softly. “It could really work.”

“Well—” Genma tilted his head, his granddaughters still holding onto his torso. “There is kind of an issue.”

Ryoga’s grin dropped. “What is it?”

Genma gave him a smile full of pity. 

“She’s engaged.”

* * *

_ When they were 42 _

“Well—oh shit. Akane, I gotta go. Mom’s here.”

Ranma hung up Hiroshi’s phone and shoved it back towards the other man as he looked up over the counter. His mother stood in front of the door to the bakery, staring at him through the glass. He grinned, hoping for the best.

The bell above the door chimed brightly as Nodoka entered, a deep frown creasing her face.

“Mom!” said Ranma in a voice that was too high. “How are ya? Long time no see!”

He limped around the gap in the counter and towards his mother. She kept her arms in front of her, not holding them out for a hug as usual.

“Ranma, I was just at your house.”

“Oh?” He tried not to sweat. Of course, he already had been sweating. The heat from the ovens got unbearable this time of day. 

“When were you going to tell me about your son?”

“Ryoichi?” he asked. “He’s doing well in school. In literature club, if you can believe it—”

“Not Ryoichi,” his mother said sternly. “Mitsuo.”

“MItsuko,” Ranma said, dropping his friendly demeanor. “Is my daughter.”

Nodoka shook her head. “Ranma, this is absurd—”

“Ah, whatever. Come on, let’s sit down, my leg’s killing me.” He gripped onto the counter top for support as he hobbled over to the table by the window. His mother quietly followed and took a seat across from him, her hands in her lap, her back straight. 

“Mom—” Ranma sighed. Leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. Tried to shake the ache out of his leg. “I don’t understand this attitude. Didn’t you accept me? The way I am?”

“That’s different,” said Nodoka. “It wasn’t your choice—”

“It’s not a choice for Mitsuko either!” He balled one of his hands into a fist and slammed it on the table. “She’s the same kid. She’s just able to express herself all the way now.”

“You don’t understand, Ranma,” Nodoka said, shaking her head and looking out of the window. “I’m old. The world is changing too fast. I’ve never met anyone like that in person before.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Ranma. “You love Toshiko.”

“Toshiko-sensei?” Nodoka blinked. “You mean—she’s not a girl?”

“She’s a woman,” said Ranma. “But she fell into the Spring of Drowned Girl, just like me. But she knew it felt right for her to stay that way.”

Nodoka knitted her eyebrows together, turning her gaze to the tabletop. “I never knew.”

“There are probably lots of people you met, who you didn’t know.”

She looked up at him. “Ranma, is that—do you feel that way? Like you’re not—like it’s—"

“Nah,” he said, waving one hand dismissively. “I’m a guy no matter what my body looks like. I don’t mind the girl body anymore, though. Both of them feel right to me. But that’s not how Mitsuko feels. Do you understand?”

Nodoka was quiet for a long time. “Ryoichi yelled at me.”

Ranma laughed. “I’m sure he did.”

“He’s never yelled at me. He never yells at anyone.” A few tears formed in the bottom of her eyes. She wiped them away with a swipe of her kimono sleeve. “If he was that angry, I must have really messed up.”

Ranma nodded. “He’s a good kid. Don’t tell him, but he’s my favorite.”

“All right.” Nodoka gave him a small, sad smile. “I should apologize to him. And to—to Mitsuko.”

Ranma smiled back. “I think that would be the right thing to do.”

“Ranma.” She reached her hand across the table. With only a slight hesitation, he lifted up his own hand and took hers into his palm. Outside the window, clouds were gathering across the sky. “I feel awful. I must have hurt her feelings so badly.”

“Probably,” he said. “But we all make mistakes, don’t we?”

Nodoka looked at her son in his weary but kind eyes. Her son was middle-aged. What did that make her? And how did he come out so good? To love his children that much, no matter what. It came so easily to him, when for her it was still a struggle. She and Genma surely hadn’t been good influences on him. He was like this all on his own. 

No. Not all on his own. He had Akane, after all. Maybe that was it.

“Yes,” she said, finally, patting his hand. “I suppose we do.”

* * *

_ When they were 42 _

Ranma and his mother walked home in the rain. He didn’t have an umbrella, and neither did she. So he shortened his cane to adjust for his new height and they both got soaked to the bone. When they arrived at the house, taking off their shoes, Nodoka headed straight into the living room. Her husband was a panda again, the twins bouncing up and down on top of him. They froze when she entered the room, staring up at her in fear.

She smiled and bit her lip, trying not to cry. She bent down. Picked up Mitsuko and held her up, best she could, even though the young girl was getting tall.

“Mitsuko,” she said. “I’m sorry. Gran was being stupid. Sometimes adults mess up.”

“You don’t hate me, Gran?” Mitsuko asked, tears in her eyes.

“No way,” Nodoka said, and shook her head with a smile. “You’re just as much my granddaughter as Keiko is. I love all of you very much.”

Mitsuko smiled back and hugged her grandmother around the neck. Nodoka squeezed her tight, then looked up over the girl’s shoulder. Ryoichi was at the table, smiling, sitting next to a strange but familiar looking boy. And next to him was—

“Ryoga,” said Nodoka, nearly dropping Mitsuko in shock. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m—”

“We’re going to parent trap him with Aunt Nabiki!” Keiko exclaimed. 

“Oh, you finally found someone to parent trap?” Nodoka asked. “Good for you two.”

“I’m home!”

Akane rushed into the room, her clothes and hair soaking wet. Her glasses were spattered with rain as well, so she lifted them on top of her head. Everyone went a little blurry at the edges as she looked around the room. 

“Is everything—” She looked down at Mitsuko, sitting next to Nodoka. “Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine, Akane,” said Ranma, standing up and taking her glasses off of her head. He handed them to Ryoichi, who wiped them off with his dry shirt and handed them back to his father. Ranma placed them back on Akane’s face and grinned. They were eye to eye. “Everything’s fine.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Akane smiled back at him. There were so many people around the table, all staring at her. She kept her smile up. “Excuse me, I’m going to change into some dry clothes.”

“I’ll come with you,” Ranma said.

“Sure. Auntie, would you like any dry clothes or a towel or anything?”

Akane saw the briefest flash of cold behind Nodoka’s eyes, although the older woman responded politely. “No thank you, Akane, I’m fine.”

Akane gave her a quick nod, and she and Ranma went to their bedroom. Ranma immediately took off his wet shirt and pants, throwing them into the corner where they landed in the hamper. Akane walked more cautiously over to her nightstand and pulled out a bottle of pills, quickly swallowing two.

“You all right?” Ranma asked curiously, as he sat on the bed to quickly rub some soreness out of his leg.

“The house is getting crowded,” Akane said softly, slowly taking off her cardigan, her blouse, her skirt. “I know it’s all family, but—I don’t know. Nabiki really threw me for a loop. And then I started panicking about your parents and Mitsuko, and I guess I didn’t even need to be worried.”

“You did,” said Ranma. “Apparently Mom and Ryoichi had it out when they first got here. That’s why Mom came up to the bakery.”

“Really?” Akane felt a spark of anger overtake her anxiety. “What did she say to Mitsuko?”

“It’s fine, Akane. I talked to her. Worked it out. She apologized. To Mitsuko.”

Akane pulled on a t-shirt. Jeans. Handed Ranma a shirt and pants for himself, although he was currently in his female body, wearing nothing but his boxers. “Is Mitsuko okay?”

“Seems like it. Mom said Ryoichi yelled at her pretty bad.”

“Ryoichi?! Yelling at his grandmother?”

“He’s a good kid,” Ranma said, grinning as he sat down on the bed to shimmy into his pants. 

Akane smiled and sat next to him. “He is. He might be my favorite. Don’t tell him.”

Ranma laughed. “I won’t.”

With a sigh, Akane added, “I still need to talk to the twins.”

“Sure. Their parent trap is going to be way easier now.”

“Oh! Ranma! That’s the thing. Nabiki’s engaged!”

“What? Seriously?!” Ranma shook his head in disbelief. “To who?”

“Some half American guy. His name is Blaine!”

“Ugh.”

“I know, right?”

Ranma pulled his shirt over his head. “Wasn’t the dad engaged in the movie?”

“Yeah,” Akane said with a small laugh. “But should we really let our kids try and break up Nabiki’s engagement?”

Ranma tilted his head, thinking this over. “Did you meet this guy? What’s he like?”

Akane put her hands in her lap. “He kinda sucks, honestly.”

“Well then,” Ranma said. “Let the kids do it. It’ll make them happy.”

Akane’s smile grew. “So you’re all in on the parent trap now?”

“I didn’t say that,” he replied. He scooted over next to on the bed and put his arm around her shoulders. “But, I don’t know. Could be fun. Don’t tell Ryoga, though.”

Akane laughed. Kissed him on the cheek. “All right, I won’t.” 

* * *

_ When they were 3 _

Genma stepped out of the front door of his most recent rental house, headed towards the mailbox. He and Ranma had been on the road for nearly six months now. The boy was still a toddler, but surprisingly coordinated and a quick learner. He would be a master of Anything Goes Martial Arts in no time. Might even be better than himself, one day. 

He had sent a letter to Nodoka, letting her know he had found a place to stay that had plenty of room for Ranma to train. The house itself was more of a hovel, but the yard plenty spacious. And the rent was cheap, for now. 

The day before he had left his wife behind, he had come home from the shop and found Ranma standing naked in the middle of the kitchen floor, stomping his feet in a large puddle of spilled milk. Most of the cabinet drawers had been pulled open, at least the one’s within the little boy’s reach. Various utensils and pots and pans had been scattered around with no rhyme or reason. 

Nodoka was simply sitting in a chair in the living room, staring blankly ahead. Genma rushed over, shook her by the shoulders, and she seemed to find her focus and gaze, but remained apathetic at the mess Ranma had made. Genma turned to his son and Ranma still went to hide behind his mother, although she didn’t move to comfort him as he began to cry. She just let out a sigh and sank back against the chair. 

Genma didn’t know what to do. There were sharp knives and forks on the floor. This wasn’t safe. So he decided to leave. She had fought him, because she loved Ranma, he knew she did, but how capable was she? He couldn’t help her. 

There was no letter from her in the mailbox. There was, however, a letter from Tendo-kun, his old friend. Genma smiled and took it inside, sitting on the floor next to Ranma, where he was napping under a thin blanket that had a dinosaur print.

_ Saotome-kun, _

_ I am glad you have decided to train Ranma properly in the Anything Goes style. I’m sure he will grow up to be a strong and powerful martial artist. As we’ve discussed, the dojo is waiting for the boy. My wife and I can’t wait to meet him. Make sure he grows up to be worthy of marrying one of my daughters, too! A man among men. _

_ Safe travels old friend, _

_ Soun Tendo _

Genma folded the paper up. Held it in his lap. Looked down at Ranma and stroked his head, gently pushing the hair out of the sleeping boy’s face.

Quietly, he grumbled to himself, “I am definitely going to screw this up somehow.”

* * *

_ When they were 42 _

Ryoga headed upstairs, rubbing a towel against his wet hair. Ranma’s parents, Rantaro, and Ryoichi had remained in the living room while he had taken a bath. Ranma and Akane had taken one twin each up to bed, Ranma with Keiko, Akane with Mitsuko. It had been a long day. 

“Ryoga.”

He paused at the top of the stairs. Ranma was coming out of Keiko’s room. Holding onto his cane with one hand, the doorknob with the other. Ranma gently shut the door behind him as Ryoga stepped up to the landing.

“Ranma.”

Ryoga braced himself, ready for a fight. Ranma looked pissed. He always looked pissed, at least when Ryoga was in his view. 

“I just wanted to say—” Ranma took a deep breath. “Thanks.”

Ryoga widened his eyes in surprise. “For what?”

Ranma tilted his head towards the door. “Keiko told me. You helped keep them calm. Made them tea. Thank you.”

Ryoga looked at the ceiling. “No problem. They’re—they’re good kids.”

Ranma smiled. It was the first real, genuine smile he had given Ryoga in years. “I know. They’re the best.”

Ryoga nodded. Awkwardly rubbed his head with the towel some more. Ranma sighed and pushed past him to descend the stairs.

“Good night Ryoga,” he said without looking back.

“Good night Ranma,” Ryoga replied, also not looking at his old friend. 

Ryoga took a deep breath and turned down the hallway to the guest room. Maybe things were looking up. Sure, Nabiki was engaged, but she was here. In Japan. And Ranma was coming around. Maybe. Hopefully. 

He lowered himself down to the floor, groaning as the bones in his spine made popping noises. He was probably too old for these shenanigans, wasn’t he? 

Still. If he could see Nabiki just one more time, it would be worth it.

* * *

_ When they were 42 _

Ranma joined his parents, son, and Rantaro at the table after heading downstairs. His father was currently a human. Fair enough, as Ranma was also currently in his non-cursed form.

“So why didn’t you guys tell me you were moving back?”

“Nabiki thought it would be a fun surprise,” Nodoka said with a small smile. 

“Of course she did,” Ranma muttered, rolling his eyes. “So where are you guys staying?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m sure Nabiki rented some swanky condo—”

“She’s engaged, Ranma! Her and Blaine are planning on living alone together.”

“And you two? You’re staying where?”

“Here, of course,” said his mother. “Where else?”

“Oh no, absolutely not,” said Ranma. “There’s no room.”

“What about the guest room?”

“That’s where Ryoga and Rantaro live now.”

“We don’t really live here,” said Rantaro.

“You kinda do,” said Ryoichi.

“Happosai’s old room—”

“It’s full of all the stuff we need for events. And Akane uses it as an office.”

“She can’t move her things?” Nodoka asked, raising one eyebrow.

“No,” replied Ranma plainly. 

Nodoka adjusted her posture slightly. “I see.”

“Look,” said Ranma. “I can put you guys up in a hotel—”

“We don’t need your money, Ranma,” Nodoka said. “Nabiki has paid me a generous salary for years while accommodating for my room and board. If we wanted to stay in a hotel, we would pay for it ourselves.”

“Well you should do that then,” Ranma said, frowning. 

Nodoka set her jaw. “Fine.”

Without saying anything else, she stood up and clasped her hands in front of her. All the men in the room stood as well, except for Ranma, who had a sore leg. 

“Come by the bakery for breakfast tomorrow,” Ranma said. “And then you can come by after school to see the kids again if you want.”

His mother softened, just a little. “All right. See you then. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Genma waved one hand at Ranma as he followed after his wife. “Bye, son. Bye, kids.”

Rantaro and Ryoichi waved after him together. Once his grandparents were out of the house, Ryoichi turned to his father.

“Why can’t they stay here Dad? We could make room.”

Rantaro spoke up as well. “The guest room is pretty big, we could share—”

“They don’t need to be here,” Ranma said. With a grunt, he climbed to his feet. Started to walk out of the room. “Tell your mother I went to bed, will ya?”

“Sure,” said Ryoichi, although he didn’t feel that way.

Once Ranma was out of the room, Rantaro turned to Ryoichi with a curious expression. “You know, your grandparents didn’t wait to say goodbye to your mom. Didn’t even mention her.”

Ryoichi frowned. “That’s true.”

“Do they not like her?”

“Ah—I think Grandpa does. Gran is always polite, but—I don’t know. I’ve seen them argue, yeah.”

Rantaro shrugged. “I like your mom.”

Ryoichi blinked in surprise, but smiled, his mouth pulling up at one side. “Really?”

“Yeah. She’s—she’s nice.”

“Even though she beat you up?” Ryoichi asked in a teasing tone.

“She didn’t beat me up—”

“She definitely won that fight though.”

“Yeah,” sighed Rantaro. “She sure did."

Ryoichi placed one hand flat over his chest. “I’m glad you’re coming around on the Saotome fam. We are pretty remarkable.”

“Okay,” said Rantaro, turning away and throwing his hands up in the air. “Now you’re pushing it.”

Ryoichi ran after him as he left the room and entered the hallway. Eagerly, he threw his arms around the other boy’s shoulders from behind. 

“Aw come on,” Ryoichi said. “I thought you said we were best friends now!”

“You said that, not me,” Rantaro grumbled as he continued walking, semi-dragging Ryoichi behind him. 

“So you don’t think we’re best friends?” Ryoichi moaned in a fake whine. “After our latest TikTok got one point two million likes?!”

Rantaro paused. “Did it really?”

“Yeah.” Ryoichi left one arm on Rantaro’s shoulder and pulled his phone out of his pocket with his free hand. Holding it up in front of Rantaro’s face, he leaned over the other boy’s shoulder and brought up the app, tapping on their latest video. “See?”

“Huh,” said Rantaro. “We’re popular.” 

Ryoichi grinned, resting his chin on Rantaro’s shoulder. “Told you we would be, bud.”

Rantaro watched the video as it looped and started again. Maybe this was really something after all. 

“What are you two doing?”

Akane was standing at the top of the stairs, having finally emerged from Mitsuko’s room, smiling down at the two boys. Ryoichi released his friend and backed up so quickly Rantaro nearly fell over. 

“Just checking our TikTok stats,” Ryoichi said in a shaky voice, adding a nervous laugh. “We’re blowing up!”

“I’m sure you are,” Akane said, coming down the stairs, her hand resting lightly on the bannister. “The two of you are so talented.”

“Of course we are,” said Ryoichi, grinning. “But you helped, Mom. Thanks.”

Akane reached the bottom step. “Well, you two are probably more popular than me, now. Maybe I should have you promote my instagram instead.”

“That’s off brand for us,” said Ryoichi. “Unless you wanted to do a dance with us in a video.”

“I’m no dancer,” said Akane with a gentle laugh. “Unless you count slow dancing with your father.”

“Oh, yeah, that reminds me, Dad told me to tell you he went to bed.”

“Oh?” asked Akane. “Your grandparents left?”

“Yeah,” Ryoichi said. “Dad made them go to a hotel.”

“Did he?” Akane’s face was void of expression. “Well, I’m sure we’ll see them tomorrow. Good night, you two.”

The boys wished her good night as she walked past them down the hallway, headed towards her bedroom. Ryoichi frowned a little at his mother’s back, watching her shoulders slump just a tiny bit as she walked away. 

Once she was out of sight, Rantaro said, “Maybe we can parent trap her and your grandmother into getting along.”

Finally, it was Ryoichi’s turn to laugh at something Rantaro said. Sticking his hands in his pockets and turning to the other boy, he said, “Too many parent traps. I think this is something they’re gonna have to work out as mature adults.”

Rantaro wrinkled up his face. “Wack.”

Ryoichi laughed again. "Extremely."


	13. Dinner for the Determined

_ When they were 42 _

On late Saturday afternoon, Keiko gathered her family around the living room table to go over their plan once more. She had set up a small easel with a large pad of paper, listing out the steps of their plan written in magic marker. As she went through the list, she pointed at each item with a ruler. At the top was written “SAOTOME FAMILY PARENT TRAP” in large characters, even though neither of the parents involved were named Saotome, and one was not even a parent, but they had had that argument. Keiko had won, as she usually did. 

“All right, step one,” she said, tapping the pad with the end of the ruler. “Get Aunt Nabiki and Uncle Ryoga in the same room together.”

“Uncle Ryoga?” Ranma grumbled, crossing his arms.

“I invited her for dinner tonight,” Akane said cheerfully. 

“Great job, Mom,” Keiko said with a thumbs up. “Step two, get them alone in the same room together. That means we have to make up reasons to be out of the room. Me and Mitsuko will fake a large argument that Mom and Dad will have to deal with, and Ryoichi and Rantaro will distract Blaine.”

“I’m gonna ask him if he wants to be in one of our TikToks,” said Ryoichi.

“What if he says no?” asked Ranma.

“I googled him and found his instagram,” Ryoichi replied. “Guy is desperate to be an influencer. He’ll do it for the clout.”

“Oh, I gotta see this guy’s instagram,” said Rantaro, pulling out his phone. “Isn’t he like forty? And trying to be an influencer? Yikes.”

On either side of him, Ryoichi and Mitsuko leaned their heads in to look at the phone screen as Blaine’s instagram popped up. There were several pictures of him posing with high-end cars, in a brightly lit house, or on far flung travel destinations.

“Aww,” said Ryoichi. “His last picture only got four likes!”

“But he has like sixty thousand followers,” said Mitsuko.

“Oh, he definitely bought followers then,” said Akane, leaning all the way across the table. “You can buy followers, but you can’t buy genuine engagement.”

“Don’t get distracted!” Keiko shouted, slapping the ruler against the paper. “We’ll look at Blaine’s pathetic instagram later. Right now, we need to concentrate on step three: Uncle Ryoga Makes a Move.”

“I don’t know,” Ryoga said with an uneasy shrug. “She’s engaged. I really shouldn’t—”

“Yeah, but this guy sucks,” said Rantaro, still scrolling through his phone. “Like some of these captions are insufferable. Like he calls himself an ‘entrepreneur.’”

“Ew,” said everyone else at the same time. 

“Why is Nabiki even with him?” asked Ranma.

“He’s rich,” said Akane.

The others nodded, as nothing more needed to be said. 

“So you see, Uncle Ryoga?” Keiko adjusted her glasses and grinned. “You don’t need to make a big move. Just a little one. Just a little something to show you’re the right guy for her. Big moves come later.”

“I still don’t know if I can just break up somebody’s engagement,” Ryoga said with a sigh.

Ranma shot him an angry look. “You used to try to break up my engagement all the time.”

“Well, that was different—”

“Was it?”

“What, why?” asked Mitsuko. “Why were you trying to break up Mom and Dad?”

Ryoga scratched his chin and stared up at the ceiling. “Uhhhh—-”

“He was in love with your mother,” Ranma said in a flat tone.

“Really?” Keiko’s eyes went wide. She tapped her chin with one finger. “Maybe we should parent trap Mom and Uncle Ryoga instead.”

“Absolutely not!” shouted Ranma.

“You’re the one who had to say something,” Akane sighed, taking a long drink of her tea. 

“Dad, were you really in love with Ryoichi’s mom?” Rantaro asked Ryoga.

“It was—” Ryoga cleared his throat and scrunched up his face. “A very, very long time ago. Almost thirty years.”

“Augh, I’m so old!” Akane moaned. 

“Well, I still have a crush on you,” Ranma said with a sly grin, scooting in closer to his wife.

“Yeah?” Akane giggled, tilting her head to meet him for a kiss.

“Aw,” said Ryoichi.

“Ew!” shouted Keiko. She slapped her ruler against the notepad again. "Back to the plan! Now that we know that Uncle Ryoga is okay with being a homewrecker—"

"I wouldn't say that," Ryoga said.

"I would," muttered Ranma.

"We can follow the plan through to its completion!" Keiko shouted over them. She set the ruler down and clapped her hands once, firmly. "Ready?"

"Ready," the others said, except for Ranma, who grumbled something else that everyone ignored. 

The group broke apart, each player going their own way to prepare for dinner. Mitsuko and Keiko put away all their papers and planning materials, while Ryoichi and Rantaro went to set up things in the dojo. Ranma headed to the kitchen and Akane started making sure the house was extra clean. Ryoga went to go change clothes, trying to find the nicest shirt he had packed, a wrinkled old pale blue button down. Akane helped him iron it so it didn’t look so shabby, although when he put it on he realized that it felt a little constricting.

“You’re really about to burst the seams on that thing, huh,” Ranma said as he entered the living room at the same time as Ryoga. 

“You’re one to talk, I’ve only seen you wear skin tight t-shirts the whole time I’ve been here,” Ryoga shot back. 

“Well, I mean, if you got it, flaunt it, you know? And I definitely got it—”

“If by it, you mean a huge ego—”

“I have that too, but not for no reason—”

“Stop it!” Keiko shouted as she came into the room, picking up the last of her papers. “You guys can argue later. Aunt Nabiki will be here any minute.”

_ Ding-dong. _

Ranma frowned. “What the hell was that?”

“We have a doorbell?” Keiko asked. 

Akane entered from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. “I never knew we had a doorbell. No one has ever used it.” 

The three adults and one child stood still, sharing confused glances. 

“Maybe someone should answer the door?” asked Ryoga. 

“Oh, yeah, someone should,” said Ranma. 

No one moved. 

Akane rolled her eyes and sighed. “Come on, we’ll all go.”

Awkwardly, the foursome shuffled into the entryway and Akane slid open the front door to reveal their guests.

“Hi!” said Nodoka with a cheerful smile as the panda standing next to her held up a sign bearing the word _Yo!_

“Mom, Pop, what are you doing here?” Ranma asked, stepping forward. 

“Nabiki said you were having a family dinner,” Nodoka said. “Are we not family?”

“Of—of course you are,” Ranma said with a grumpy sigh. “Come in, come in. Also why did you ring the doorbell?”

“I just noticed you had one—” Nodoka’s voice trailed off as her son led them into the living room. 

Akane, Ryoga, and Keiko remained in the entryway, bearing similar frowns.

“This was not part of the plan,” Akane said.

“Sure wasn’t,” said Keiko. “But we can work with this. We’ll just have Dad handle me and Mitsuko’s fight, and you can start a fight with Gran and get them to leave.”

“I’m not going to start a fight with your grandmother—”

“Why not? You do it all the time.”

Akane placed one hand on her hip and used her other hand to point in the direction of the living room. “She starts fights with me—”

“It’s really like fifty-fifty,” Keiko replied. “Now wait here, I gotta go tell Mitsuko and the boys what’s up.”

Now it was just Akane and Ryoga left alone by the stairs, looking after Keiko as she ran down the hallway towards the back door. 

“What have I gotten myself into?” asked Ryoga, pulling at the collar of his shirt with one finger. 

“Aw, come on Ryoga-kun,” Akane said, patting him on the shoulder. “It wouldn’t be a Saotome family plan without something going wrong.”

Ryoga knit his eyebrows together, concerned. “I suppose.”

_ Ding-dong. _

“Seriously, when did we get a doorbell?” Akane exclaimed, throwing up her hands. She turned to the door and slid it open. Luckily, this time the guests were expected.

“Akane,” said Nabiki, giving her sister a hug. “Thanks for having us over.”

“Thanks from me as well,” said Blaine.

“Of course, of course,” said Akane, stepping back to allow them inside. Nabiki held onto Akane’s shoulders as she took off her shoes. 

“Now what are we having for—Ryoga.”

Akane saw it. For just a split second. Her sister’s trademark smirk fade, her eyes go wide, and her bottom lip ever so slightly quiver. Near instantly, the look was gone. Nabiki’s posture softened. Smirk plastered back to her face. Crossed her arms cooly as she stepped up to the wooden floor of the hallway.

Akane looked over at Ryoga. He wasn’t hiding his expression at all. It was obvious he was awestruck, his mouth clearly in a big dopey smile visible even through his beard. 

“Nabiki,” he said. 

She raised one eyebrow, taking another step towards him. “Been a long time.”

“Sure has.” His grin grew bigger. 

“Grown up little lost boy finally found his way back here?”

“What can I say?” he asked with a shrug. “I always end up where I’m supposed to be.”

Akane was delighted. The two had immediately become lost in one another. Inwardly, she chanted, _parent trap, parent trap, parent trap, parent trap—_

“And you are?” Blaine stepped forward, offering a hand to Ryoga in greeting. His tanned face wore a smug mask similar to Nabiki’s own. 

Both Ryoga and Nabiki snapped out of their bubble and turned to him.

“This is—Ryoga,” Nabiki offered plainly as the two men shook hands. “He’s—he is—”

“A family friend,” said Akane, helping her sister out. 

“Blaine Watanabe. Pleasure.” 

Ryoga gave him a silent nod and pulled his hand away. His grin faded and his mouth disappeared behind his beard again. 

“This is my—” Nabiki took a deep breath, but her smirk remained in place. “Fiance.”

“I’m sure he is,” Ryoga replied, maintaining eye contact with Blaine. 

Part of Akane hoped this would devolve into a physical fight between the two men. Ryoga would win handily, no doubt. That would be fun to see. But the more responsible, maternal part of Akane decided that would actually be a terrible idea, parent trap or no. So she just smiled and clasped her hands together. 

“Let’s all go sit down, hmm?”

“Actually, why don’t you boys go on ahead,” Nabiki said. “I need to talk to my dear sister real quick.”

“Sure babe,” said Blaine, flashing her a smile. Ryoga frowned and Akane made a retching face behind Nabiki’s back as the two men headed towards the living room. She quickly made her face neutral again as Nabiki turned around to face her. 

“Akane,” Nabiki said with false friendliness. “Why is Ryoga here?”

“Good question, actually.”

“And what is the good answer?”

“Well—his son kinda showed up a little over a month ago wanting to fight Ranma.”

Nabiki raised her eyebrows. “His son? Rantaro?”

“So you remember the kid’s name,” Akane said with a knowing smile.

“Shut up. So Ryoga came to get his kid and then, what, just decided to stay?”

“Yeah, he does kinda live here now.”

Nabiki sighed. “And you didn’t tell me this?”

Akane smiled again, finally having the upper hand on her sister. “I thought it would be a fun surprise.”

“Touché.” Nabiki gave her an approving look. “One more thing, are he and Ranma friends again?”

Akane shook her head. “Absolutely not.”

Nabiki smirked and turned around to head towards the living room.

“Well,” she said. “This might be more fun than I thought.”

* * *

_ When they were 25 _

“Hello?”

“It’s me, Nabiki.”

“Oh! Nabiki! How are you? You’re calling us this late?”

“It’s morning here.”

“Of course, of course. Urrrgh. Hurmph.”

“What are you doing?”

“Just sitting on the floor. Standing up when I’m this pregnant is basically torture.”

“I’m glad that won’t ever be me.”

“Can’t blame you for feeling that way.”

“Other than the parasite, Akane, how is your day going?”

“Nabiki. You can just ask.”

“I am asking.”

“If you want to know how the wedding was—”

“What wedding?”

“Nabiki!”

“Oh, was Ryoga’s wedding today? I forgot.”

“You never forget anything.”

“Well, I’m sure it was a beautiful and classy event.”

“It was—showy, I’ll say that. Most of Ryoga’s family didn’t show up, though.”

“Really?”

“You don’t have to sound so happy about it.”

“I’m not happy. I have no feelings about this whatsoever.”

“Nabiki, you know they only got married because Akari is—”

“I know! You don’t have to remind me. Of course he married her, that idiot. When he told me he never wanted any kids—”

“Have you been drinking?”

“No. Yes. Shut up.”

“It’s okay to still have feelings—”

“For a married man? With a child on the way? Are you crazy? I’m pathetic.”

“You are not. You’re just a human woman.”

“Ew! Gross! Akane, I’m hanging up now.”

“Will you at least drink some water before you go to bed?”

“Fine, fine.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

“All right. I love you. Be safe.”

“I love you too. Good-bye.”

* * *

_ When they were 42 _

“Ranma, everything is delicious,” Nodoka said, as the family neared the end of dinner. “Better than any restaurant.”

“Thanks Mom,” Ranma said, beaming. It had been a tight fit, squeezing everyone around the table, especially with a giant panda in the room, but somehow they had made it work. 

“That reminds me of how glad I am to be in Japan,” said Blaine. “I don’t have to tip servers here. I always hated doing that in America.”

Ranma, who had once tipped a random bartender two hundred dollars while on his honeymoon, frowned deeply. “I don’t think it’s that bad.”

“Are you kidding? I’m just supposed to supplement their salaries—”

“Akane,” said Nabiki with forced cheeriness. “I was wondering when we would be able to schedule some cake tastings.”

“Oh,” said Akane, setting down her chopsticks. “Ranma usually bakes the cakes, so it’s up to him for when he’s free.”

Ranma crossed his arms, unsure of whom he hated more, Blaine or Ryoga. It took him a second to decide as he looked back and forth between the two other men, Ryoga next to him, and Blaine at the end of the table by Nabiki. He sighed.

“I’m all booked up,” he grumbled, grabbing his glass of water and taking a big gulp. “Have to practice for a competition at the end of the month.”

“That’s all right,” said Blaine with a gentle laugh. “I’m sure we can find an upscale bakery, anyway. I know there are some really great pastry chefs in Tokyo.”

Akane’s eyes flashed behind her glasses. “Ranma is an award winning, internationally famous baker.”

“I am?” Ranma asked, confused.

“Don’t you ever look at my instagram?”

“You know I don’t, Akane.”

“So, Uncle Blaine,” Keiko said, slamming her mug of tea down on the table before her parents started arguing. “How did you and Aunt Nabiki meet?”

Blaine hissed through his teeth. “Ooh, can we not do the ‘Uncle Blaine’ stuff? I’m not really a kid guy.”

“But we’re adorable,” said an affronted Mitsuko. 

Blaine tilted his head. “Well—”

Ranma placed one firm hand on Akane’s shoulder, as he could tell by her posture she was ready to jump over the table and punch the lights out of anyone who inferred her children were anything less than perfect. 

“All right,” said Ryoichi, slapping the table and putting on one of his flashiest smiles. “You know, me and Rantaro were about to go film a TikTok. Blaine, how would you like to be in it?”

“A TikTok?” Blaine tapped his chin, thinking. “How many followers do you have?”

Ryoichi’s eye twitched, but his smile didn’t waver. “Seven hundred thousand.”

“Really?” Blaine raised his eyebrows. “Then absolutely. Let’s do it.”

Ryoichi swallowed and maintained his expression. “Great.”

Blaine stood up and looked down at Nabiki. “That is, if it’s all right with you, babe.”

A lot of looks were shared around the table, eyes rolling, noses crinkling. 

“It’s fine,” said Nabiki with a dismissive wave. “Go have fun with the boys.”

“Come on, we’ve got a setup in the dojo,” Ryoichi said, as he and Rantaro led Blaine out of the room. 

Once they were gone, Keiko smiled. Their biggest target was out of the way. Now to get Gran and Grandpa Panda out of the room. She looked over at her mother and caught her eye. Akane frowned and shook her head. Keiko nodded aggressively in response. Akane’s frown deepened. 

Keiko balled her hands into fists and silently mimed banging on the table. Akane sighed and rolled her eyes.

She opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, Nabiki spoke first.

“You all are so rude!”

“Us?” asked Akane incredulously. “He was about to say my children aren’t adorable.”

“Not everyone likes kids, Akane,” Nabiki said firmly.

“Everyone likes my kids,” Akane replied. She held out one arm in the direction of the twins. “Look at them!”

Keiko and Mitsuko tilted their heads together and beamed brightly at their aunt. 

“I like them, sure,” Nabiki said with a sigh. “But not everyone is going to.”

“That’s insane,” said Akane. “You’re going insane!”

“Mom,” said Keiko in a warning tone.

Akane took a deep breath. This wasn’t who she was supposed to be starting a fight with. Although she hadn’t started it, Nabiki had. Didn’t matter. Support the children. Fulfill their destiny. Parent trap, parent trap. 

“Let’s change the subject,” Akane said, adopting a peaceful smile as she clasped her hands together. Thinking quickly for a way to rile up Ranma’s mother, she said, “Auntie, how are you enjoying your stay at the hotel?”

“It’s adequate,” Nodoka replied, giving Akane the stiff reaction she had hoped for. “Although I’m sure we would be more comfortable here, Ranma has informed us there simply isn’t room.”

Akane gritted her teeth and reminded herself she loved her children more than anything in the world. “That’s right, I’m afraid. Ryoga and Rantaro have taken over the guestroom completely.”

“And you refuse to remove your things from Happosai’s room as well, I’ve heard,” Nodoka said.

It took all of Akane’s strength to keep the smile on her face as she replied, “It’s not that I refused. Even if I took my desk out of there, there wouldn’t be enough space for the two of you.”

“Is that so?”

Akane saw an opening, finally. “Yes. Would you like to look for yourselves?”

“Very well.”

Akane, Nodoka, and the panda stood up and shuffled out of the room together, leaving Nabiki, Ryoga, the twins, and Ranma. Keiko looked over at her father, who nodded, then over at Mitsuko, who also nodded. Keiko slowly picked up her mug, pretended to take a sip of tea, then slammed it back down, where it caught the edge of Mitsuko’s plate, causing her food to spill over onto the table.

“Hey, watch it!” Mitsuko shouted, and gave her sister a shove.

“Don’t push me, idiot!” Keiko yelled, pushing her.

“You’re the idiot, idiot!”

They both started yelling incoherently and tackled each other to the ground, wrestling ferociously while hurling insults. 

“Hey, you two!” Ranma stood up and limped over to them, pulling them apart. “That’s it, time out!”

“No way!” Keiko launched herself towards her sister, but Ranma caught her around the waist with one arm and picked her up off the ground. He did the same with Mitsuko, and they both squirmed violently in their father’s grasp. 

“All right, I’m taking you to your rooms!” Ranma started to trudge out of the room. 

“Wait, Ranma.” Nabiki, surprisingly, stood up, looking concerned. “Do you need help?”

Ranma and the two girls he was holding froze as he turned to stare at her. “What?”

“Carrying them upstairs? Do you need help?”

“I—” Ranma furrowed his eyebrows. “I can handle it.”

“That’s right, he can handle it!” Keiko shouted.

“Shut up, dummy!” Mitsuko swung a fist in her sister’s direction, swaying in her father’s arm. The hit didn’t connect, and Ranma sighed deeply. 

“I’ll be fine, Nabiki. Now come on, you two.”

Ranma turned and limped out of the room, the twins still struggling and screaming in his hold. 

Nabiki frowned after them, remaining in a standing position as she crossed her arms. Ryoga decided to stand as well, lumbering uneasily to his feet, feeling the bones in his lower back pop. 

For the first time in nearly twenty years, they were alone. 

Ryoga cleared his throat softly. Nabiki turned around, suddenly reminded he was there. Her concern gave way to a cool smile.

“Well,” she said. “Certainly never a dull moment around here, huh?”

He gave her a weak grin. “Sure isn’t.”

“Did you miss—” Nabiki gestured with one hand to the empty table, piled high with dirty plates and leftover food. “All of this?”

Ryoga’s grin grew firm. “I did, actually. A little.”

“Really?” She raised one eyebrow, crossing her arms again.

“Yeah,” he said. “But mostly, I missed you.”

“Oh come on,” Nabiki said, rolling her eyes. “Don’t start with that.”

“I’m just saying, you look great,” Ryoga said. 

“Yeah, obviously, of course I do,” she replied. “But we had a fling when we were kids. We’re grownups now. Time to move on.”

“A fling?” Ryoga’s frustration came out in his voice. “We were together for five years! We lived together!”

“When you could find the place,” muttered Nabiki. 

“I thought you didn’t care about me getting lost!”

“I didn’t! I still don’t! I wish you would get lost right now!”

“Nabiki, you—”

“An opening!”

The heel of a Converse-clad foot connected with Ryoga’s jaw, sending him toppling to the floor. 

Mirai had swung in through the open doorway that led to the koi pond and kicked him in the face, landing in front of the table.

“Mirai?” asked Nabiki. “What are you doing here?”

“Heard there was a family dinner,” Mirai said, sitting on her butt and lifting her feet up one at a time to pull off her shoes. She set her sneakers on the table and grinned. “And that means there’s always plenty of leftovers.”

Mirai grabbed a plate and started piling it high with food, occasionally pausing to lick her fingers.

“And why did you kick me?” Ryoga growled, rubbing his jaw as he climbed to his feet. 

“You’re Rantaro’s dad, right?” asked Mirai, her back to him. “Can’t tell me you didn’t deserve it.”

Ryoga frowned, his hand still on his chin. 

“She has a point,” Nabiki said, tilting her head slightly.

“Wait, are you two alone together?” Mirai turned around, grinning widely. She wagged her index finger back and forth between the two of them. “Looks like the parent trap is working."

“The what?” asked Nabiki.

“Nothing, nothing!” Ryoga said in a panic.

She frowned. “Ryoga, you better tell me—”

“All right, all right.” Ryoga winced, putting his hands up, palms out. “The twins are trying to parent trap us.”

“Parent trap?”

“You know, like the movie.”

“I know about the movie,” Nabiki sighed. “I’m the one who gave them the DVD.”

“What, really?” asked Ryoga. 

“Yeah,” she replied. “It was one of the first movies I saw in America, and I thought they would like it. Now I’ve probably seen it five hundred times.”

“Yeah, I’ve watched it nearly as much in the past couple weeks,” Ryoga muttered.

“Really?” Nabiki turned to face him, a mischievous glint in her eyes. She uncrossed her arms and held out one hand in front of her.

One side of Ryoga’s mouth pulled up into a knowing grin. He reached out and shook her hand, pumping twice before she slapped her other hand on top of his and they quickly stacked their hands on top of each other, before pulling back and placing their individual palms together flat, moving them back and forth. They met in the middle and alternated palm slaps above and below their hands before pulling back, snapping their fingers, turning and bumping their hips. First one, then the other. Then they faced each other, bending down in unison, their hands clasped under their chins, before pulling back once again. Each of them grinning wide, they took a big step past each other, turned, and met back in the middle for another, singular handshake. 

“Not bad, Hibiki,” she said with a smile, not letting go of his hand. “I knew you had a good memory.”

“Of course,” Ryoga replied, treasuring the feel of her hand in his. “I remember everything.”

“Gross!” Mirai said cheerfully from her place on the floor, biting a big hunk out of a piece of bread. “You two are super cute.”

Nabiki and Ryoga jumped away from each other and glared down at her with shared ire.

“Mirai, what is your deal?” Nabiki asked.

Mirai shrugged, taking another bite of bread. “I like to cause problems on purpose.”

Nabiki, sighing, rubbed her temple with her fingers, holding up her other hand in a stop gesture. “I’m going to—I’m going to go find Blaine.”

Ryoga frowned, watching as she started to walk down the hallway towards the front of the house. Right before she turned the corner, Nabiki paused and looked back at him.

“By the way, Ryoga,” she said, smirking. “I like the beard. It’s a good look.”

Ryoga’s mouth stretched into a big grin as she turned away. He lifted one hand to his face in delight, rubbing his chin through his beard. Little moves. One step at a time.

Mirai climbed to her feet, standing next to Ryoga as she used her teeth to tear a piece of meat off a piece of fried chicken. 

“You know,” she said, mouth full. “I’m not really into the whole lumberjack look myself.”

Ryoga glared down at her dourly. “Who asked you?”

“Nobody,” she replied, swallowing her food. “But I thought I would give my opinion anyway.”

* * *

_ When they were 42 _

“See?” asked Blaine, coming out of the last dance step. “Isn’t it better this way?”

Ryoichi and Rantaro stood a few feet away from him in the dojo, both of them with their arms crossed, bearing identical expressions of stoicism. 

“Sure,” said Ryoichi, forcing himself to smile. “It’s—it’s great.”

Rantaro flexed his hands, digging his fingers into his biceps, and said nothing. It was not great. It was completely wrong. Out of rhythm, no flow, and just plain unpleasant to watch. It was better for Rantaro to remain silent and let Ryoichi handle Blaine for now. 

“I’m glad you can see things my way,” Blaine said, grinning and flashing them a sight of his peculiarly white teeth. He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out his cell phone. “You guys wanna take a group pic for the gram?”

Ryoichi’s cheek muscles tightened as he desperately tried to maintain his smile. Rantaro, however, scrunched his nose up, still saying nothing. 

“Yeah,” said Ryoichi. “Let’s do it.”

Blaine backed up to them, holding his phone up at the end of his arm. The boys reluctantly leaned in, their smiles clearly strained. Blaine took several pictures, tilting his head at a slightly different angle each time. 

“Thanks guys,” said Blaine as he finally lowered his phone. Tapping on the screen, he asked, “Cool if I tag you in it, right?”

“Sure,” Ryoichi said wearily. He had checked Blaine’s social media accounts pretty thoroughly, and while the guy was definitely arrogant and pretty cringy, he didn’t have a history of racist tweets or anything. “Why not?”

“And how are things going in here?”

The three of them looked up as Nabiki strode in through the dojo door, the night sky visible behind her. 

“Oh, hey babe,” said Blaine, not noticing the teenagers making faces of disgust. “Things are going awesomesauce! Just showing the guys how to make the most of their following.”

“That’s great, sweetie,” Nabiki said with a smile. “But it’s getting late. I think it’s time we head out.”

“Sure thing, babe,” said Blaine, putting his phone back into his pocket. He moved to exit the dojo and paused when she wasn’t following. “You coming?”

“I just have to say goodbye to my nephew real quick. I’ll meet you inside.”

“You got it.” Blaine slipped out of the door with a wink and a nod.

Nabiki turned to Ryoichi and Rantaro, putting her hands on her hips but keeping a smile on her face. They smiled back nervously.

“Nice try on the parent trap, boys,” she said.

Ryoichi’s smile dropped. “Who told you?!”

“Who do you think? Your lovely cousin dropped by for a visit.”

“Mirai,” Ryoichi groaned. “I’m gonna kill her. She’s the worst.”

“She’s not so bad,” said Nabiki. “She kicked Ryoga in the face and I have to tell you, that was very satisfying to see.”

“She did?” asked Rantaro, looking concerned. 

“Don’t worry, he’s fine. No one is tougher than that guy, as I’m sure you know.” Nabiki stepped a little closer to him, her eyes searching his face. “You really do look just like him, you know? Not like your mother at all.”

Rantaro frowned. “Is that a compliment or an insult?”

“Don’t misinterpret me,” Nabiki said, stepping back. She spread her hands out, palms up. “Your mother is a very beautiful woman. Very, very beautiful.”

Ryoichi watched the corner of Nabiki’s mouth drop ever so slightly. 

“Oh man, Aunt Nabiki,” he said. “You’ve got it bad.”

Her smile faded and her eyes grew sharp. “What are you talking about?”

“You still like Rantaro’s dad.”

“Shut up! I do not!”

“Oh, you really do, huh?”

“You!” Nabiki marched up to Ryoichi and pointed her index finger in his face, glaring up at him. “You are way too much like Ranma.”

“Yeah,” Ryoichi said with a sigh. “I get that a lot.”

Nabiki took a deep breath. Resumed her smile. Patted Ryoichi on the cheek. “Good night, Ryoichi. I’ll see you later.”

She turned and walked away from the pair of teenagers without another word. 

Ryoichi gave Rantaro a genuine grin. “So what do you think of your new stepmom?”

“Shut up.”

“You sound just like her!”

Rantaro swung his fist in the other boy’s direction. Ryoichi leaned backwards, dodging the punch easily, although Rantaro hadn’t been earnestly trying to connect. 

“Okay, but seriously,” Ryoichi said as he put up a hand to block Rantaro’s second punch. “Your dad is so much cooler than Blaine. That guy is a nightmare.”

“I agree,” said Rantaro, dropping his fists. “Like every time he spoke, I wanted to die.”

“Same!” exclaimed Ryoichi, throwing his hands up above his head in exasperation. “This is why we gotta see out the parent trap. My Aunt Nabiki doesn’t deserve that.”

Rantaro bit his lip. “She’s a lot different than the rest of you, but—I dunno. It did seem like she liked my dad still.”

Ryoichi grinned and nodded. “It did, didn’t it?”

“So what’s the next part of the plan?”

Ryoichi clapped Rantaro on the shoulder with a warm hand.

“We’ll have to ask Keiko that one.”

* * *

_ When they were 42 _

“So you see,” Akane said as she led Nodoka and her husband out of Happosai’s room and into the front hallway. “There’s just no way to make room in there.”

“If you say so,” said Nodoka. “Although couldn’t some of those things go in the attic?”

“Attic’s full, Mom,” Ranma said from the top of the stairs. Leaning heavily on the bannister, he made his way down to them. “Stuffed to the brim with five generations of Tendo history.”

“All right, Ranma,” Nodoka said with a sigh. She gave him a hug once he reached the bottom step. “It’s getting late. We should leave. Where are the girls?”

“They’re out for the count, I’m afraid.”

“Give them my love, then?”

“Sure thing, Mom.”

“Grandpa Panda!” 

This was Mirai, running into the foyer from the living room, followed by an irritated Ryoga. She threw her arms around the panda in the hallway, who eagerly returned the squeeze. 

“Not your grandfather, Mirai,” Ranma said sternly. “And what are you doing here?”

Still holding onto the panda, she grinned at her uncle. “I heard there was food.”

“Doesn’t your mother feed you?”

“Sure, but she only makes just enough. There’s never any leftovers! You always have a ton leftover.”

“That’s true, Ranma, you do cook a huge amount of food,” Akane said.

“Should you really be criticizing his cooking techniques, Akane?” Nodoka asked with a raised eyebrow.

Akane’s mouth dropped open to say something, but Ranma quickly stretched his arm out in front of her and pretended to yawn. 

“Oh boy, whoo, I am so—so tired. And my leg, ow, it’s really hurting. I need to get to bed. Good night Mom. Good night Pop. Good night, Mirai.”

“I have to go too?” Mirai whined. 

“Yes,” said Ranma in a firm tone. “You most of all.”

She stuck her tongue out at him and he frowned, his mouth arching up towards his nose. 

“You look like a frog, dear,” Nodoka said gently, pushing a piece of hair out of his face. “But we should go. We’ll see you soon.”

Another exchange of hugs and goodbyes, and Nodoka left with her husband and Mirai. Once the door was closed behind them, Akane and Ranma let out deep breaths simultaneously. 

“Ryoga-kun,” Akane said as she turned around, a tired smile on her face. “How did things go with Nabiki?”

“Well—”

“What things with Nabiki?” 

This was, of course, Nabiki, coming down the back hallway with Blaine. 

“Just, you know,” Akane muttered. “In general. Generally speaking.”

“Generally,” Nabiki mocked. She turned her attention to Ranma. “Your parents left? I wish I could have said goodbye to your mother.”

“They’re probably not far,” Ranma replied. “If you left right now, I’m sure you could catch them.”

“So eager to get rid of me, Ranma?”

“Not you,” Ranma emphasized. 

Nabiki straightened her shoulders while Blaine smiled on, oblivious. “I’ll be seeing you, then, Ranma. A shame you won’t be able to bake our cake.”

“A shame,” Ranma repeated, as Nabiki and Blaine stepped past him to the front door. 

“Thanks for having us,” said Blaine, holding his hand out for Ranma to shake. “I had a great time. I’m sure I’m gonna get some followers from your son’s TikTok.”

“Great,” said Ranma condescendingly as he shook the other man’s hand. “Glad it all worked out.”

“Come on sweetie, let’s go,” Nabiki said, nudging Blaine gently. 

“Sure, babe. Bye guys!”

“Bye!”

A chorus of voices, most with false enthusiasm, and then Nabiki and Blaine were gone, chasing after Ranma’s parents. 

“That guy is the worst!” Ranma shouted once the door was closed. 

Akane clutched her head in her hands. “He sucks so much! How? How can one person suck that much?!”

“So much,” agreed Ranma. He threw his head back and looked up at the ceiling. “I might hate him more than Ryoga.”

“Really?” asked Ryoga.

Ranma rolled his head over to look at him. “I forgot you were there.”

“By the way, Ryoga-kun,” said Akane. “You didn’t get to tell me how things went once you were alone with Nabiki.”

“Actually—” Ryoga smiled, rubbing his beard with a faraway look in his eyes. “Things went pretty good, all things considered.”

“Oh, I’m so happy,” said Akane. “Because Blaine really sucks.”

“He sucks so much,” added Ranma.

Ryoga let out a brief laugh, the first one he had in a long while. “Thanks guys.”

Ranma diverted his gaze, rubbing his neck as he stared down the hallway. Akane beamed back at Ryoga and said warmly, “You’re welcome.”

Ryoga nodded and with a small whistle, headed upstairs. 

“All right, Akane, let’s go to bed,” Ranma said, putting his arm around his wife’s shoulders.

“Oh, but there’s so much mess in the living room—”

“I’ll text Ryoichi, have him clean up,” Ranma said, leading her towards the bedroom. 

“He won’t do dishes, though.”

“But Rantaro will.”

Akane giggled. “Fair enough.”

She opened the bedroom door and Ranma limped over to the bed, sitting on the edge as he pulled his t-shirt off over his head. Akane shut the door and leaned her back against it briefly, smiling. 

He grinned back at her. “So how do you think it went, babe?”

Akane rolled her eyes good naturedly. “Ranma, don’t start—”

“What’s the matter, babe? You don’t like it when I call you babe, babe?”

“Ranma—”

She erupted into giggles as Ranma leaned forward and grabbed her around the waist, pulling her into his lap. She put her arms around his neck and kissed him lightly. 

“Nice one, babe,” he said. 

“You are so goofy, you know that?”

“I know that, babe,” Ranma said, pulling her in closer, his hands joined at the small of her back. “But you like it, don’t you babe?”

“Seriously, stop,” Akane said, trying to suppress her laughter. “You sound ridiculous.”

“Aw, come on, babe—”

She planted a kiss on his lips to silence him. Ranma slid one of his hands up her spine until he could wrap his fingers in her hair. Their kiss deepened and Akane took her glasses off, holding onto them with one hand, her arms draped over Ranma’s shoulders. 

They paused and broke apart to breathe, keeping their faces close. 

“You ready to go to bed?” Ranma asked with a sly smile.

“We are in the bed right now,” Akane replied.

“But I mean—” He waggled his eyebrows. “Go to bed.”

She bit her lip and shook her head. ”You are so lucky that you are so good looking, you know that?”

“Ah, it’s not luck,” Ranma said. “It’s talent.”

“Whatever you say, babe,” Akane mumbled against his lips as she kissed him again. “Whatever you say.”


	14. Same Old Song

_When they were 42_

“Keiko?”

“Hey! Ryoichi asked me to walk you home today,” the young girl said as Rantaro hung his apron up behind the counter at the bakery. She was still in her uniform dress from school, her bookbag on her back. 

“Oh? Where’s he at?” Rantaro waved at Hiroshi as he walked over to the front door with Keiko. Hiroshi waved in return, smiling over the cup of coffee he held up to his face. Ranma was in the kitchen, cursing furiously at a batch of cupcakes, and had only grunted at Rantaro when the teenager told him his shift was over. 

“Special kendo practice with Kuno,” said Keiko, holding open the door. The bell above jingled brightly as they left, walking out onto the street.

“Really?” asked Rantaro, his jaw tightening. 

“Yeah, they got a meet coming up this weekend.”

“Hmm.” Rantaro stuck his hands in his pockets. They walked a few more blocks in silence. Or Rantaro was silent, anyway, as Keiko was singing the Krusty Krab Pizza song over and over again to herself. 

“The Krusty Krab Pizza is the pizza, absolutively—”

“Hey Keiko.”

“What’s up?”

“Do you do martial arts? Like your brother?”

“Ew, no. Come on. That takes so much work. I’m just trying to watch cartoons.”

“Fair enough,” said Rantaro. “You just have a lot of energy, is all.”

“Yeah, they tried to put me in soccer last year to ‘work it off’ but I refused to run and would cry whenever the ball came near my head because I thought my glasses would break.”

“You would cry?”

“Sure. I cry all the time. I have a lot of feelings, as my mom says. Gotta let them out.”

“Can’t remember the last time I cried,” said Rantaro, looking straight ahead down the sidewalk.

“You should do it. Ryoichi says boys would be healthier if they cried more.”

“Does Ryoichi cry a lot?” Rantaro asked, surprised.

She shrugged. “Sometimes. I don’t think he’s got as many feelings as me, though.”

She’s just a kid, thought Rantaro. She’s just a kid, and we’re letting her mastermind a plan that has an awful lot of moving parts. Is she that smart or are we that stupid? Maybe both.

“Hey, Keiko,” he said again.

“What?”

“What’s the next part of the parent trap?”

“Excellent question,” she replied with a little skip on the sidewalk. “We’re swerving over into parent trap part B for that one.”

“What do you mean?”

Her eyes sparkled behind her glasses. “We’re gonna get our dads to be friends again.”

* * *

_When they were 41_

“Hey, Dad.”

“Hey, Keiko.” 

Even though it was a Monday, and the bakery was closed, Ranma was still up early, performing situps on the living room floor. He was surprised to see Keiko awake, considering she and her twin normally slept until the last possible second before having to get ready for school. He paused his exercises and sat up at the table, where Keiko cuddled up next to him, hugging him tight around his torso. 

“Dad,” she said in her cutest voice. “I need a favor.”

“Ah,” he said with a knowing smile. “And what is that?”

She pulled back slightly and removed a note from the pocket of her school dress. “My teacher wants to meet with Mom after school.”

Ranma took a look at the note, addressed specifically to Akane. “Why is that? What did you do?”

“Nothing specific! I swear. She just said there’s lots of ‘issues’ she needs to ‘discuss.’”

“And what did your mother say?”

“I didn’t show it to her.”

Ranma sighed. “Keiko—”

“You know how she gets about school stuff! I don’t want her to get mad at me.”

“And why do you think I wouldn’t be mad at you?”

“You dropped out of school, so obviously it’s not as big of a deal to you.”

“Keiko—” Ranma screwed up his face in frustration. “I went to grade school. A bunch of them.”

“Okay, but still! Mom will get so upset! And she’s been so stressed out lately!”

That was true. Ranma let out a puff of air, blowing his bangs upwards. “So you want me to meet your teacher then?”

“Yeah, but she’s weird. She only ever wants to talk to moms. She doesn’t trust dads.”

“That’s sexist,” Ranma grumbled. A realization hit him with a sudden shock. “Keiko, wait. Are you asking me to—”

“You just gotta pretend to be Mom for a little while. Like an hour, tops!”

Ranma furrowed his eyebrows. “Keiko—”

“Please, Dad? Please?”

Ranma groaned. Thought about it for a minute. It had been a long time since he got to pull off something like this. And hell, he wasn’t doing anything else today. 

“Yeah, all right,” he said in a weary voice. 

“Thanks, Dad!” Keiko smiled and hugged her father tightly around the neck. Ranma patted her back gently. She was a good kid, after all. Her teacher couldn’t have that much to say.

Several hours later, he found himself in front of the gates to the grade school, in his female body, wearing Akane’s clothes and spare pair of glasses. He still had his cane, as he couldn’t manage without it nowadays, but only the rudest people ever asked about it. Teachers are supposed to be polite. 

With a sigh, he made his way inside and down the hallway to Keiko’s classroom. There was no one in there besides Keiko and her teacher, a pleasant faced young woman sitting behind a desk. Keiko sat in a plastic chair on the opposite side of the desk, slumped low.

“Saotome-san,” the teacher said with a smile. “Please, sit down.”

“Call me Akane,” Ranma said, as he took a seat next to Keiko. He picked up his cane and laid it across his lap, trying to smile like Akane would in this situation. 

“Akane-san, then.” The teacher cleared her throat. “I asked you to come here today because Keiko-chan is having some trouble.”

“Oh?” Ranma raised one eyebrow. “Her marks are fine.”

“That’s true. There’s room for improvement, but that’s not my concern. She gets distracted easily.”

Ranma looked over at Keiko, who was staring out of the window, flicking her bottom lip repeatedly with her index finger. 

“Fair enough.”

“The issue is, she has an incredible amount of energy. As a result, she ends up finishing her work too quickly and then bothers the other students until they pay attention to her, resulting in them not completing their work.”

“So what do you want her to do?” asked Ranma. “Take her tests slower?”

“That’s not what I’m saying.” The teacher leaned forward, clasping her hands together on top of the desk. “I think Keiko needs an outlet for her excessive spirit. I’m under the impression that your family owns a dojo?”

Ranma stiffened in place. “We do.”

“Have you perhaps considered training her in martial arts?”

“Ew! No! Gross!” Keiko shouted, crossing her arms and slamming back against the seat. 

“You heard the kid, no martial arts,” Ranma said, satisfied. 

The teacher put on a strained smile. “How about a sport then? Soccer?”

“Soccer?!” whined Keiko.

Ranma sighed. It wasn’t the worst idea. He leaned down to his daughter. “Just give it a try. One month."

“But I don’t wanna—”

“I did you a favor. Now do this as a favor for me.”

“Fine,” Keiko grumbled, turning her head away as she pouted. 

“A favor?” The teacher knit her brow, concerned. 

Ranma looked up at her sharply. “It’s none of your business how I raise my kid, lady. I got her to agree to soccer, isn’t that what you wanted?”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“Come on, Keiko, let’s go.” Ranma stumbled to his feet, leaning on his cane, then reached his free hand down to his daughter. Keiko hopped up and took it, and they left the teacher to sit in confused silence. 

“Do I really have to join the soccer team?” Keiko asked Ranma once they were outside. 

“Just for a little while. You might even like it. The teacher was right. You do have a ton of energy.”

Keiko frowned, but squeezed her father’s hand. She would do it, for him.

Unfortunately, Ranma turned out to be wrong. She hated soccer. They wanted her to run, and cooperate with the other kids, and she was miserable every second of every practice and every game. Her father let her quit.

“Maybe team sports aren’t for you,” Ranma said with a sigh after her last game, leaning down to wipe the dirt and tears off of her face. “You’re too independent.”

“Did you ever play soccer Dad?” she asked, sniffling as he continued to wipe her face with a tissue.

“Only in gym class. You’re a lot like me. You only want to rely on yourself.”

“I’m the only one I can trust.”

Ranma laughed kindly and stood up, shoving the dirty issue into his pocket. “You can trust me. Your Mom. Your siblings.”

“I guess,” she muttered, taking his hand to walk off the field.

“I know it’s hard, Keiko. Took me a long time to learn that, too. But we’ll find something else for you to do. Something where you can count on your own strength and still get out some of that energy.”

“Okay, Dad,” she said in a small voice.

Two weeks later, she enrolled in archery.

* * *

_When they were 42_

_Ble-bloop._

Ranma picked up his phone from the table and turned it over to look at the screen. Mitsuko was sitting on the floor of the living room next to him, painting her toenails. The other kids were out somewhere, although he had no idea where they could be on a Thursday. Ryoga was at the head of the table, scrolling through his phone like he always was. At least his fat mouth was currently shut, even though it was now more visible through his freshly groomed and conditioned beard. 

Ranma looked at the text notification and frowned deeply.

“Oh great,” he groaned.

“What’s wrong, Ranma?” Akane asked, coming out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on the front of her pants. With a deep breath, she stood in front of the doors leading to the koi pond and slid them open, letting the late afternoon sun stream in with the breeze. 

“It’s Hiroshi,” Ranma mumbled. “He’s got the flu or something. Can’t work tomorrow.”

“Oh, that’s a shame,” Akane said, taking a rag off her shoulder and starting to wipe down the edges of the doors. 

“Guess it’s just me and Rantaro tomorrow,” Ranma said, setting his phone back down with a heavy sigh. 

“Not Rantaro,” said Ryoichi as he, Rantaro, and Keiko entered the room from the front hallway. “He busted his hand.”

Rantaro held up his left hand, bound in a neon green cast. 

“Rantaro!” Ryoga shouted, leaping to his feet. “Are you okay?!”

“Yeah,” Rantaro said, as his father grabbed hold of his forearm and looked over the cast. “Not a serious break. Just punched a wall at the wrong angle. Gotta be in the cast a couple weeks, though.”

“Why didn’t you call me?” asked Ryoga.

“Probably because you wouldn’t have been able to find the hospital,” muttered Ranma. 

“Shut up!” snapped Ryoga.

Ranma opened his mouth for another retort, but was stopped when Mitsuko tugged on his shirt. “What are you going to do tomorrow, Dad?”

“Ah, that’s right. Tomorrow is Friday, it’s always stupid busy. Akane, you wanna come in and wash dishes?”

“I would love to, but I have about a hundred appointments tomorrow. Florist for Nabiki’s wedding, the lawyers for the lawyers for the Lawyers’ Association—”

“All right, all right,” Ranma grumbled. Looked down at his youngest daughter. “Mitsuko, you like to clean. You wanna come to work with your old man?”

“Ranma, no!” Akane put her hands on her hips. “She is nine, and she has school tomorrow.”

“Fine,” Ranma said. “Ryoichi?”

“I also have school, Dad,” Ryoichi said.

“Yeah, but you don’t like it.”

“Fair point, but I also have a kendo meet and I hate doing dishes.” Ryoichi spread his hands out with an apologetic smile. 

“Guess it would be pointless to ask Keiko, huh?”

“I do hate school,” Keiko said, as she sat down at the table. “But I hate doing dishes even more.”

“You can’t take any of them out of school, Ranma,” said Akane, crossing her arms. 

“Well what am I gonna do? I can’t run things by myself tomorrow! Somebody has gotta do a dish!”

Everyone was silent. Outside, a koi fish jumped out of the pond and fell back down, making a small splash. 

And then Keiko looked up. Pointed one tiny finger behind her. 

At Ryoga. 

“No,” said Ranma, standing up in a fury, bracing himself on the wall for support as Mitsuko handed him his cane. “Absolutely not!”

“Ranma,” said Ryoga. “I can do a dish—”

“I don’t need your help!” Ranma stomped as fiercely as he could to the other side of the table as the others backed away from the pair of them. “I can do it myself!”

“You just said you couldn’t!”

Ranma jabbed his finger into Ryoga’s chest. “You trying to come in here and play hero or something? Trying to get in good with me?! It ain’t gonna work!”

“Don’t be stupid, all I said was I would do the dishes for a day!”

“You come in here with your Captain America muscles, and new beard, think you’re hot shit—”

“You’re just jealous because you can’t grow one!” 

Ranma was struck silent, placing one hand on his chest as his jaw dropped open in shock. He took a step back from Ryoga and started shaking his head. 

“I can’t believe you would say that, man,” Ranma said as he turned away, his voice thick with tears. “You know I’m sensitive about that.”

He hunched over, hiding his face in his hands. 

Ryoga reached out to him. “Aw jeez, Ranma, I’m sorry—”

“An opening!”

Ranma grabbed Ryoga’s forearm, his cane clattering to the floor. And for the first time in over fifteen years, he flipped a person over his head. Ryoga landed on his back in the yard, letting out a small “oof” as he hit the grass. Ranma’s leg buckled underneath him, and he dropped to one knee as he continued berating Ryoga.

“I can’t believe you still fell for that, you absolute dingus—” 

“Dad."

Ryoichi’s voice. Ranma froze, his eyes wide. Slowly, he pivoted around, still on one knee, to face his son, who was looking at him in shock. His daughters, too, looked surprised, but they didn’t carry the betrayal in their eyes like Ryoichi did. And Akane had one hand over her mouth, looking like she was about to cry. 

“Dad,” repeated Ryoichi. “You did—that was martial arts!”

Ranma held up one finger. Opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. “No it wasn’t.”

“Dad!”

Ranma shrugged hopelessly. “What do you want me to say?”

“Ryoichi.” Rantaro put his good hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Isn’t it obvious by now your dad used to be a martial artist?”

“Is that true, Dad?” asked Ryoichi, tears forming in his eyes. “Were you a martial artist?”

Ranma turned his head. Looked down at the floor. “Yeah. Yes.”

“Then—why?” Ryoichi asked. He wasn’t yelling. His voice was soft. “Why did you ban it from the house until I was like seven? Why do you give me and Mom such a hard time about it? It’s not right! Why, Dad?”

Ranma snatched up his cane and grunted as he pulled himself to his feet. Marched over to his son. “Because of my stupid leg, Ryoichi! Why else?! They told me if I kept doing martial arts they would cut it off, you understand that?! And I didn’t want something like that to happen to you or your mother! The thought of you in a fight, getting hurt, I—” 

Ranma stopped. Bit his lip. Shook his head, unable to meet his son’s eyes. Cleared his throat, started again.

“I hurt my leg in a fight, Ryoichi. I made a mistake and it got crushed by a boulder. Your mother saved my life. She almost lost me. And I almost lost her, before that. Many, many times. The thought of that happening to you, or the girls—it’s unbearable. I can’t face it. I’m a big coward. Always have been. I’m sorry.”

“Dad, I just—” Ryoichi wiped tears off of his face with the sleeves of his hoodie. “I wish you had told me the truth. I would’ve understood.”

“I know, I know,” said Ranma miserably. “You’re a good kid. You understand everything too much, sometimes.”

Ryoichi tried to stop his lip from quivering. He turned to Akane. “You lied too, Mom.”

“I know, Ryoichi,” she said softly. She crossed her arms, hugging her own torso. “I’m sorry. I just—I didn’t want to hurt your father.”

Ryoichi looked back at Ranma. His head was bowed, both hands on top of his cane, his shoulders shaking. 

“Dad,” he said softly, trying to hold in his sobs. It didn’t work. One escaped him, a loud, rough, choking noise. “Dad!”

Ryoichi threw his arms around Ranma, enveloping his father in a hug.

“I’m sorry, son, I’m sorry,” Ranma said, also crying as he wrapped one arm around Ryoichi’s back to return the hug. “How can I make it up to you? I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

Ryoichi pulled back, letting his hands rest on Ranma’s shoulders. Sniffled away his tears, and then gave his father a crooked grin.

“Let Uncle Ryoga do the dishes for you tomorrow.”

“Wh—huh?” Ranma frowned. “Are you serious?” 

“Yeah,” said Ryoichi, patting him on the chest with one hand. “I am.”

“I—all right, I guess.” Ranma turned around to face Ryoga, who was standing in the yard, in front of the deck. “You up for doing dishes still?”

Ryoga sighed. “Sure.”

“Then you might wanna go ahead and turn in,” said Ranma with a smirk. “We get up before the sun.”

* * *

_When they were 42_

"Dad, come on, get up."

Ryoga grunted and turned over in his futon to look at his son through one open eye. His other eye was squished against the pillow, but it wouldn't have mattered much even if it was open. The room was dark as hell.

"Time?" he muttered in a scratchy voice.

"4:12 in the morning."

Ryoga groaned and rolled over onto his back, trying to blink his eyes open. When he was Rantaro's age he had been a morning person, but five years of being with Nabiki had taught him the joys of sleeping in. Nowadays he managed to get up before ten most of the time, but this was ridiculous. It was still night outside!

"Come on, Dad, you don't want him to come in here and get you up."

"All right, all right," Ryoga sighed and hurled himself up to a sitting position. He twisted his torso back and forth at the waist, and the bones in his spine made a satisfactory pop. Rantaro handed him a bottle of ibuprofen and Ryoga dumped a random amount of pills into his hand and swallowed them dourly. Grunting again, he climbed to his feet and yawned loudly, scratching the back of his head. 

“Yo! Ryoga!”

The guest room door slid open with a _clack_ to reveal Ranma, grinning cheerfully. 

“Mmmrph,” replied Ryoga, digging through his pack for a clean shirt.

“I thought you’d be ready by now,” said Ranma. “You seemed so eager to help out yesterday. Just champing at the bit. Raring to go.”

Ryoga squinted his eyes sleepily at Ranma and pulled his shirt over his head. “I just said I didn’t mind doing dishes.”

“Right, right, your hero complex, I get it,” said Ranma, turning away with a wave of his hand. “I’ll see you downstairs.”

Once he was gone, Ryoga looked over at Rantaro and said, “I don’t think I’m the one with the complex.”

Rantaro grinned up at him and flashed him a thumbs up with the hand not in a cast. “Good luck, Dad.”

Ryoga pressed his lips into a tight smile. “Thanks, son.”

During their walk to the bakery, Ryoga found it impossible to stop yawning. Every twenty seconds, his mouth would open wide and let out a deep, hollow sound from the bottom of his belly. There was literally not a single other person out and about on the sidewalks, no cars on the street. 

“Why do you start so early?” Ryoga moaned at the halfway point of their journey.

“The cinnamon buns, Ryoga,” said Ranma. He tapped his cane on the ground to emphasize his point. “The cinnamon buns!”

Ryoga shrugged sleepily. “Okay.”

“You know, your son handles getting up early way better than you.” 

“Rantaro’s young. He’s got energy, and he doesn’t have sciatica.”

“Oh? I’m sorry, I didn’t know that you wake up in pain every day. I have no idea what that could be like. What a daily nightmare you must suffer—”

“All right, all right, I get it, sorry,” Ryoga muttered. 

“I bet you are.” Ranma came to a stop in front of the bakery entrance. Pulled his keys out of his pocket and unlocked the door. The bell chimed out above their heads as they walked inside. Ranma hung up his cane, turned on the lights and, limping, led Ryoga to the back room with the sinks.

“Oh, there’s not that many dishes,” said Ryoga, looking at the small stack of pans and bowls sitting on the side of the basin. 

“Not yet,” said Ranma with a sly grin. As he turned to walk back to the kitchen, he added, “Now get to work.”

Ryoga nodded and yawned loudly again.

Ranma sighed, his shoulders softening. “There’s a coffee pot, up front. You can have some, if you make it.”

“That would be great,” Ryoga said, exhaling in relief. “You want some?”

“Are you kidding?” said Ranma. “Akane would kill me if I came home with coffee breath.”

Ryoga nodded knowingly and made his way to the coffee pot. Dumped enough grounds into the filter that he knew it would come out exactly how he liked it—pure sludge. Once it was ready, he picked up the entire pot and drank directly out of it.

“Ryoga!”

Ryoga paused and lowered the pot, the plastic lid making a tiny _click_. “What?”

Ranma leaned forward through the opening in the wall that made a small window between the front area and the kitchen. He crossed his arms. “That is for customers!”

“No problem,” said Ryoga. “I’ll wash it when I’m done.”

He walked back towards the sink area, chugging down the rest of the coffee. Ranma rolled his eyes and started slamming pans and baking sheets around in the kitchen. 

Once at the sink, Ryoga dunked the now empty coffee pot into the soapy water. He could already tell it was going to be a long day.

* * *

Akane checked her watch. It was just after one o’clock, meaning the lunch rush at the bakery was over and there was typically a lull in business. She hadn’t eaten lunch yet herself, although she was planning on rewarding herself with the biggest, greasiest cheeseburger in Nerima after she was done with this. She slipped into the alley between the bakery and the bookshop next to it, and found what she was looking for. 

A squat orange and white cat with big eyes, snoozing on top of the dumpster.

“ _Psst, psst, psst_ ,” Akane said, reaching out her hand. “Come here, Popoko-chan.”

The friendly cat stirred from her slumber and stretched with a big yawn, her tongue lolling out. With a curious purr, she strided over to Akane and pushed her face into Akane’s hand. Akane smiled and patted Popoko’s head gently before reaching under her front legs and picking her up. 

“I need you to do me a favor,” Akane said to the cat. Popoko purred again, rubbing her nose against Akane’s chest. She was a very amiable, good-natured, and lethargic cat who was either always in the alley or the bookstore itself. 

Ranma would be terrified.

* * *

Ranma wiped his hands on the front of his apron after shoving the last batch of brownies for the day into the oven. He took a step back from the stainless steel counter in the kitchen and thought for a moment. There was no competition coming up that he needed to practice for, like he had told Nabiki. But he did want to make a cake. Recently he had seen a recipe for a chocolate malted cake that he wanted to try recreating. Wouldn’t be good for a wedding cake, but the kids would probably like it if he brought it home.

Limping, he made his way over to the storage pantry and pulled out a fresh bag of flour. He was almost back to the center of the kitchen when he heard it.

“Meow?”

Ranma froze and slowly turned his head. There, near the entrance to the kitchen, sitting on the floor looking at him with bright green eyes, was a squat orange and yellow cat. 

Panicking, Ranma backed up against the counter, clutching the flour to his chest, causing several stacked pans and bowls to fall and bang on the metal. 

“C—ca—cat—CAT! CAT! CAT!!!!!” he screamed.

Ryoga poked his head around the wall from the kitchen. “Ranma?”

Ranma shakingly pointed one finger at the small furry animal. “Cat! Cat! Cat!”

Ryoga stepped forward, drying his hands with a towel. He threw it over his shoulder and looked down. Popoko purred and rubbed her body against Ryoga’s shins, wrapping around his legs. 

“Ranma,” said Ryoga, bending down and lifting Popoko up into his arms. “Are you really still scared of cats?”

“Of course I am! Get it out of here!” Ranma held up a mixing bowl in front of him as a shield. 

"Ranma," Ryoga said, stepping closer to Ranma, holding up Popoko. He just couldn't resist messing with his old friend, just a little bit. "Come on, you're a grown man now. Look at her! She's cute!"

"She's the devil!" Ranma shouted, and threw the mixing bowl at Ryoga's head. Ryoga easily dodged, but Popoko, startled by the sudden movement, wriggled out of Ryoga's hands and took a leap onto the table, legs flailing. She landed on a freshly rolled sheet of fondant, her feet leaving tiny pawprints.

"Get off of that!" Ranma slammed the edge of the table and the cat jumped again, right on top of his head. Ranma shrieked and squeezed the bag of flour so hard it exploded in a white cloud, the particles scattering all over the room.

"Get it off, get it off!"

"Just stay still—"

"Get this cat off me, Ryoga!"

"I'm trying!"

Both men were covered in flour. Ranma was throwing his arms about carelessly and Ryoga struggled to dodge his fists. Popoko, terrified, was yowling and dug her claws into Ranma's scalp.

"YOWCH! Ryoga! Do something!"

"Hold—still—"

Ryoga managed to free Popoko from Ranma's head, but the cat slipped out of his grasp and jumped towards the counter, sending more pans and bowls and equipment to the ground. Ryoga leapt after her and was just a second too late. He missed catching her and knocked over a container of sugar and a carton of eggs. One of his feet landed on top of the carton as he stumbled, causing the eggs inside to explode, several yolks hitting Ranma in the face as he dropped to one knee.

Another splat of yellow splashed onto Popoko's fur and she yowled and made a mad dash to the back door where Ryoga managed to finally shoo her away. He returned to the kitchen where Ranma, kneeling and covered in the ingredients it takes to make a cake, was glaring at him.

"This is your fault!" Ranma yelled, grabbing onto the table and struggling to pull himself to his feet.

"My fault?!" asked Rypga incredulously. "It's not like I let the cat in here!"

"But if you had just put it out in the first place, none of this would've happened!" Ranma stepped forward angrily, bearing his weight on the counter. "You should have just listen—WAHHH!"

Ranma had stepped on a broken egg and slipped, losing his feet under him. As he fell, Ryoga instinctually reached out and grabbed Ranma's hand. However, he slipped on another egg and started to fall himself, and both men hit the ground at once, hands still clasped.

Stunned, Ranma and Ryoga remained sitting on the floor, staring at each other wide-eyed and breathing heavily. They were in near identical positions, legs out in front, knees bent, side by side. Resting back on one arm, the other connected in the middle, forming a bridge between them.

Ryoga waited. Waited for Ranma to start yelling again. For him to slap Ryoga's hand away in disgust. 

Instead, Ranma just let out a long sigh. And then, his mouth pulled up into a half grin. He gently released Ryoga's hand and struggled to his feet again, pulling on the edge of the table. 

"You know what?" he asked, watching Ryoga easily hop to his feet. “I want a drink. You want a drink?”

Ryoga wasn’t always the smartest guy. But sometimes he was. He saw the olive branch being offered, and he took it.

“Yeah,” he replied, smiling. “Sounds good.”

* * *

“Yo, Akito!”

“Ranma!” The tall, not-so-lithe bartender turned and gave him a charming grin. “You look like shit.”

Ranma laughed. He was still covered in a floury sludge. Ryoga didn’t look much better, with bits of eggshell still stuck in his beard. They made their way over to the bar and took seats on a pair of stools, Ranma hanging his cane on the edge of the bar itself. Ranma jerked his thumb in Ryoga’s direction. 

“You remember this guy?”

“Oh?” Akito rubbed his chin, looking at Ryoga with consideration. He snapped his fingers. “Ah! Nabiki’s ex-boyfriend, right?”

“Yeah,” said Ryoga in surprise. “You still work here?”

“Well I own the place now,” Akito replied, grinning again. “But I still like to work the bar. I get to see some real weirdos come in, if you know what I mean.”

He winked and slightly nodded his head in Ranma’s direction. Ranma rolled his eyes, but smiled. “Ryoga’s way more of a weirdo than me, so you’re in for a real treat.”

“I’m sure I am,” Akito replied. “Now what can I get you guys to drink?”

“Scotch, neat,” Ryoga said, leaning forward, resting his elbows on the bar. 

“Oh-ho, a man of taste!” Akito smiled. “And Ranma, I assume—”

“Beer,” said Ranma. “Just beer.”

“Your usual.” Akito winked again and turned to fix their drinks. He put a glass in front of Ryoga and a bottle in front of Ranma. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I do have other customers to serve.”

“No problem. Thanks bud,” Ranma said, tilting his beer in Akito’s direction. Akito gave him a quick nod before moving to the end of the bar to attend to the new guests.

“Can’t believe he remembers me,” Ryoga said, taking a sip of his scotch.

“Unfortunately, you’re hard to forget,” Ranma said, taking a big swig of his beer. 

Ryoga stared down at his glass, watching the amber liquid ripple slightly as he tilted it back and forth. “Sorry.”

“Huh?”

“I’m sorry, Ranma.”

“For what? The mess? I told you I’ll make Hiroshi clean it up when he’s better—”

“No, not for that,” Ryoga said. He looked up, meeting Ranma’s eyes with his own. “Well, yes for that. But for everything else. For—before. For what I said.”

Ranma turned and stared forward at the shelves of liquor behind the bar. He was quiet for a moment, then said in a low voice, “It was a long time ago.”

“Can I—” Ryoga awkwardly ran his hand over his beard. “Can I tell you why? What I figured out?”

“Couldn’t have been a good reason,” Ranma grunted, sipping his beer. 

“It’s not,” Ryoga replied. “It’s a shitty reason.”

Ranma raised one eyebrow, looking at Ryoga from the corner of his eye. “What is it?”

Ryoga turned his gaze back down to his glass. He took a deep breath and began.

“Ranma, I didn’t just think of you as my rival, you know? Not just my friend, or even my brother. Ranma, I idolized you.”

Ranma said nothing. Didn’t look at Ryoga. Just took a sip of his beer. 

Ryoga continued. “You were who I wanted to be. You had everything I wanted. I really looked up to you and admired you, and most days, I just felt lucky to know you. And when you said ‘no more martial arts,’ I just—I panicked. I thought, I thought—”

Ryoga clenched his jaw. Shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. Opened them again and exhaled deeply before speaking once more.

“I thought, what else would we have in common? I thought—” He choked back one loud sob. “Why would he even want to be friends with me anymore?”

He stopped talking. He had said all that he needed to say.

Ryoga thought Ranma would stew on this for a while. That they would sit there quietly until Akito came to check on them again. That there was no response that needed to—

Ranma flicked him on the forehead.

"Ow!"

“You’re an idiot,” Ranma said as Ryoga rubbed the spot where he had been hit. “Man, I knew you were insecure, but jeez louise, that is next level.”

“Wh—what?”

Ranma turned on his stool, resting an elbow on the bar. “You really thought I wouldn’t be friends with you anymore because I didn’t do martial arts? That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard.”

“But we were only ever friends in the first place—”

“We were only ever friends in the first place because we were enemies in the first place,” Ranma said. “And we were only ever enemies because we were too much alike to begin with. If it hadn’t been martial arts, it would have been something else. Embroidery, or soccer, or kite-flying, who the hell knows. We would have pursued each other to the ends of the earth to compete. It’s not about the martial arts, it’s about the—the—Ryoichi would know the word.”

Ryoga furrowed his brow in thought. “Tenacity?”

Ranma snapped his fingers. “That’s it. The tenacity. Me and you, we don’t ever give up.”

“Well,” said Ryoga, with a sad smile. “Sometimes we do.”

Ranma returned the smile with the same amount of melancholy. “Sometimes we do.”

“I’m sorry, Ranma,” Ryoga said. “I’m really sorry.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Ranma said with a sigh. “You keep saying that.”

“I’ve caused you a lot of trouble.”

“Can’t be helped,” Ranma said, shrugging. “We’re too much alike.”

“I guess so.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” said Ranma, taking a drink from his beer. “We’re plenty different.”

“How do you think we’re different?”

“I’m better looking, for one,” said Ranma. Ryoga rolled his eyes. “And I’m smarter.”

“Well—”

“Okay, maybe not smarter, but I do have a better sense of direction.”

“Easy target,” said Ryoga, drinking from his scotch.

“That reminds me, I wanted to ask you,” Ranma said, picking up his bottle of beer and waving it slightly as he talked. “We live in a world now that has GPS. Google maps. Whatever. How! How?! How are you still getting lost all the time?”

“I’ve tried that stuff,” said Ryoga mournfully. “But all they ever say to me is ‘recalculating.’”

Ranma was taking a sip of beer right as Ryoga replied and choked on the mouthful of liquid in surprise. Eyes bugging out of his head, he stared at Ryoga in silent amazement for quite some time before he pursed his lips together. 

And then burst out laughing. 

Ranma laughed for a while, throwing his head back, his mouth open wide. Held his stomach and wiped tears out of his eyes. Ryoga just watched, unsure of how to react. 

Ranma finally settled, the laughter easing out of him, his shoulders relaxing. Smiling, he turned to Ryoga and patted him heartily on the shoulder. 

“I missed you, bud.”

Ranma took a long swig of his beer and then turned, slamming the bottle on the bar. “Barkeep! Second round!”

A smile slowly began to keep across Ryoga’s face as Akito headed towards them. The chattering in the restaurant behind him blurred together in his ears with the clinking of bottles and glasses, fading into a pleasant whooshing sound. Akito set another glass of scotch down, another beer for Ranma. 

Ranma turned to Ryoga with a lopsided grin on his face. Tilted the neck of his beer bottle towards him. Ryoga picked up his glass and touched the rim to the bottle, creating a small _clink_.

“ _Kanpai_ ,” said Ranma.

“ _Kanpai_ ,” said Ryoga.

And for the first time, in a long, long time, Ryoga had a best friend again.

* * *

“This was certainly—fascinating,” Kuno said, holding up his plastic cup of boba tea. Mostly empty now, it still contained several tapioca pearls at the bottom. 

“Yeah,” said Ryoichi, rounding the corner leading down the street to his house. “Sakura’s the one that loves it. I can take it or leave it.”

Kuno took a long sip through his straw and chewed for a moment. “I think I like it.”

Ryoichi laughed. “Then Sakura might replace me with you as her best friend.”

“I thought the other boy—”

“Takeshi is her boyfriend. I’m her best friend. And his best friend. And also Rantaro’s best friend.”

Kuno raised one eyebrow. “Who is Rantaro?”

“Rantaro is me,” said Rantaro, who was waiting at the gates of the Tendo dojo. He leaned against the open frame and crossed his arms, frowning. He jerked his head in Kuno’s direction. “This is the guy? Nobunaga?”

“Indeed,” replied Kuno with a small bow. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Sure,” muttered Rantaro, rolling his eyes. “Where have you been this whole time, Ryoichi?”

“I had a kendo meet, you knew that,” Ryoichi replied. 

“Did you win?”

Ryoichi grinned. “Me and Kuno both won our matches. So I bought him a boba tea to celebrate.”

“You bought him one?” asked Rantaro, arching one eyebrow. “Isn’t he supposed to be super rich or something?”

“I can afford to buy some boba tea,” replied Ryoichi, frustration growing in his voice.

Rantaro shrugged disdainfully. “You didn’t bring me any.”

Ryoichi blinked. “Do you even like boba tea?”

Rantaro looked away, down the street. “I don’t hate it.”

Kuno looked back and forth between the two other boys, slurping the last of his tea.

“Hmmph,” he said. “I see.”

“See what?” asked Ryoichi.

“Clarity has been shed on a certain issue for me just now,” Kuno replied, smiling. “It appears I have lost a battle I did not realize I had been fighting.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Ryoichi. 

“Nothing important,” said Kuno. “But I am afraid I must take my leave and bid you farewell.”

“All right,” said Ryoichi, still a little confused. “See you on Monday?”

Kuno nodded. “Monday it is.”

Rantaro and Ryoichi watched Kuno turn and stroll down the street, disappearing around the next corner. 

“Kind of a weird guy, huh?” asked Rantaro.

“Nah,” said Ryoichi. “He’s one of my best friends.”

* * *

Ranma and Ryoga stumbled out of the bar and into the crisp night air. Ranma had one arm slung around Ryoga’s shoulders, waving his cane with the other as the two made their way down the street, singing at the top of their lungs.

““There’s always tomorrow, yeah, there’s always tomorrow! I’m young enough to still have my dreams! Surely someday, surely someday, she will understand! There’s always tomorrow, there’s always tomorrow! There’s always tomorrow afterrrrrrr aaaaaaaallll!”

The two men ended up in front of a bench facing the street. Ryoga sat down, slumping slightly to the side, his legs spread far apart. Ranma sat at the other end of the bench, resting his elbow on the arm and tapping his cane on the ground. 

“Ranma,” Ryoga said, tilting his head back and looking up at the stars. “I feel like I missed everything.”

“Nah,” Ranma said, waving his hand dismissively. “Like what? I had some more kids. Ukyo had some kids. Shampoo and Mousse had twelve kids—”

“Twelve?! Really?”

“Yeah, but do not ask me their names, because I—” Ranma shook his head a few too many times. “I do not know them.”

“Deal,” Ryoga laughed, pointing upwards with one finger before his forearm fell back and hit him in the head. “But you know what? You know what?”

“Wat?"

“I’m glad our sons are friends,” Ryoga said. “They remind me of us.”

“Do they?” Ranma asked before erupting into snorting, closed mouth giggles. 

“What? Wha’s funny?”

Ranma’s giggles led to a loud open mouthed laugh that bounced off the city streets. 

“I don’t get it,” Ryoga said. “Don’t you think they’re just like us?”

“You wish, bud,” Ranma replied through gasps of laughter. 

“What are you—”

“Nice to see you two having fun.”

Akane was standing next to the bench, arms crossed, looking down at the pair with an amused smile.

“Akane!” Ranma shouted and gave her a huge grin, throwing his arms up in celebration. “What’re you doin’ here?”

“Akito texted me,” she replied. “Said you two might need an escort home.”

“Oh why?” asked Ranma. “Just because we’re extreeeemely drunk?”

“That might have something to do with it,” Akane said.

“Akane, you’re so pretty, I love you so much,” Ranma said, grabbing her around the waist and pulling her into his lap. “My beautiful wife.”

“I’m glad you’re an affectionate drunk,” Akane said, kissing him on the forehead.

“I wish I had a beautiful wife,” Ryoga moaned in despair. “I miss Nabiki.”

“The whole reason you guys broke up is because she didn’t wanna get married,” said Ranma, attempting to hold Akane closer. 

“But she’s gonna marry that guy! Like, that guy! From America?!” Ryoga made a look of disgust and stuck out his tongue. “Who—who—who is he? That guy!”

“All right, you two,” Akane said, breaking free of Ranma’s grasp and hopping to her feet. She grabbed each of them by one arm and yanked upwards. “Time to go home.”

Ranma slung an arm around her neck and kissed her cheek. “You’re so good to me.”

“I sure am,” she said, making sure Ryoga was steady on his feet as well. “And I guess you two are friends again?”

“Yup,” said Ranma, with an exaggerated nod as the trio made their way down the sidewalk. “The bestest.”

“The best of the bestest,” Ryoga agreed, trying to keep his eyes open. 

“I almost forgot the two of you were more obnoxious as friends than you were as enemies,” Akane said with a sigh. “But the kids will be happy.”

“The kids?” asked Ryoga. 

“They parent trapped you,” Akane said, smiling.

“They did?”

“They’re so smart,” Ranma said. “We got outsmarted by children.”

Ryoga nodded. “Sounds about right.”

Akane helped both of them as they continued stumbling along the street, Ranma occasionally loudly professing his love for her as if for the first time, Ryoga randomly yelling out Nabiki’s name like a dog howling at the moon. The road dipped down under the overpass by the canal, cars rushing by above them. 

“ _Highway to the danger zone_ ,” Ryoga sang softly, bobbing his head. “Akane, you remember that?”

“I do,” she said with a small smile. “A long, long time ago.”

“Since when do you speak English?” Ranma grunted, looking at Ryoga over the top of Akane’s head.

“I’ve learned a lot of things, Ranma,” Ryoga replied. “I am very wise now.”

“That sounds familiar.”

“Does it?” Ryoga stuck his hands in his pockets and looked skyward again. “ _Highway to the danger zone—_ ”

“ _Highway to the danger zone!_ ” Ranma repeated, his head bobbing forward as he clung on to Akane. The men repeated the same line over and over again, slightly out of tune, as Akane led them back up the other side of the dip in the road. Eventually, she joined in with them, singing in a soft, sweet voice, “ _Highway to the danger zone!_ ”

The three friends arrived at the entrance to the Tendo dojo together, their voices fading away into the night. 

“ _Highway to the danger zone . . ._ ”


	15. Battle of Words

_ When they were 42 _

Ryoga trudged into the living room, his hand covering his eyes.

“Good afternoon, Ryoga-kun,” Akane said cheerfully, dressed in her gi as she sat at the head of the table.

“Afternoon?” he grunted, plopping down on the floor, still covering his eyes to block out the light. “What time is it?”

“Oh, one fifteen. I hope you slept well?”

He groaned and crossed his arms on the tabletop, resting his head on his arms. 

“Here, Dad,” Rantaro said as he came into the room with Ryoichi. He set a glass on the table in front of his father. “Water.”

Ryoga looked up at Rantaro through bleary eyes. With a sudden movement, he grabbed Rantaro’s hand encased in the cast. “Rantaro, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you broke your hand.”

“Oh. Uh—” Rantaro slipped the cast all the way off of his arm. “I didn’t really. It was fake.”

“What?!”

“Part of the parent trap,” said Ryoichi. “Mom said it worked, too.”

“You lied to me?” Ryoga asked his son.

“Well—”

“Akane!” Ryoga shouted. “He lied to me!”

“Kids lie,” Akane said with a sympathetic shrug. 

“That’s it, Rantaro, you’re grounded!”

“Grounded?” Rantaro asked in shock. “How can I possibly be grounded? We don’t even live here!”

“We kinda do,” replied Ryoga angrily. “And for the foreseeable future, you are grounded! No more playing with Ryoichi!”

“Playing?!” shouted Rantaro. “I’m not a kid!”

“Yes you are! And you’ll listen to your father!”

“This is bogus!”

“To be fair, Ryoga-kun,” interjected Akane. “We all kind of lied to you. Except Ranma.”

Ryoga turned his glare over to her. “What?”

“Hiroshi wasn’t sick. Rantaro didn’t break his hand. I may have let the cat into the kitchen. You know, it was all part of the plan. You used to love stuff like that.”

Ryoga rubbed one of his eyes with the flat side of his fingers. “This is why I didn’t want to come here. There’s always some sort of shenanigan.”

“Am I still grounded?” asked Rantaro. 

“No,” said Ryoga. “Because you were corrupted by the influence of—”

“Okay, cool, Ryoichi let’s go I had a new idea—”

“Oho, can’t wait—”

The two boys were out of the room before Ryoga could finish his thought. He looked over at Akane, who was smiling with too much mischief in her eyes. 

“Teenagers,” she said in a light tone. “What can you do?”

* * *

_ When they were 42 _

“Mom and Pop are coming over for dinner tonight.”

Akane looked up at Ranma, standing in the doorway of the bath. She was on all fours, having dismantled the drain on the floor of the shower to dig out a clog of hair after scrubbing down the grout. 

“Seriously?” She wrinkled her face, making her glasses ride up her nose. “You’re telling me this now?”

“Better now than after they get here,” he replied, attempting a charming smile. 

Akane sat up on her knees and pulled off her rubber gloves one at a time. “Did they ask to come over, or did they just say ‘hey we’re coming over?’”

Ranma tilted his head. “Well—”

“I thought so,” Akane grunted, attempting to reassemble the drain. 

“Aw, come on Akane, they’re just tired of being cooped up in that hotel—”

“So you’re trying to guilt me into letting them move in now too?”

Nodoka and Genma had come over quite often in the past few weeks, and the kids had become more and more attached. They were constantly pestering Akane about it, wondering why they couldn’t have their own personal panda available full time. Ryoga had been lost the week before last, and then Rantaro for three days after that. And while they were both back in the guest room now, the excuse of them staying there was probably growing thin. 

“No,” said Ranma. “Absolutely not. But they are my parents, and it’s just dinner—”

”Fine, whatever,” said Akane, standing and pulling the scarf off of her hair she had used to cover her head while cleaning. “It’s not like you were looking for permission anyway. Now get out of here, I have to wash up.”

Ranma pouted. “You mean I can’t watch you shower?”

“Ranma, you’ve seen me naked literally thousands of times.”

“Yeah, but it’s always a good time for me,” he said with a teasing grin. 

Akane rolled her eyes. “You’re a grown man. Get out.”

“Aw,” he moaned in disappointment, turning around to leave the bathroom, his shoulders slumped. 

Akane sighed. “Ranma?”

He turned back around. “What?”

She grinned and quickly pulled up the bottom of her shirt to flash him. Since she had originally planned on cleaning all day, she wasn’t wearing a bra so he got the full view.

“Nice,” he said, nodding and giving her a thumbs up.

Giggling and still holding her shirt under her chin, she said, “Are you happy now?”

“Big time,” he replied with a dopey smile. 

“Hey Ranma, I wanted to ask you—”

Ryoga appeared in the doorway right behind Ranma. Akane yelped and pulled her shirt down, blushing furiously. Ryoga slapped his hands over his eyes and started screaming, “I didn’t see! I didn’t see anything!”

“Not anything?” Ranma asked, grabbing him by the collar. 

Ryoga peeked between two fingers. “Maybe a little.”

“Ryoga—”

“Both of you out!” Akane pushed them into the laundry room and slid the door to the bath closed with a loud clack. Fuming, she turned to the bucket of soapy water she had been using to clean the floors and kicked it, stubbing her toe and letting out a curse.

On the other side of the door, Ranma still held Ryoga by the neck of his shirt.

“Come on, Ranma, it was an accident, I’m sorry,” Ryoga said, dropping his hands from his face.

“I know,” grunted Ranma, releasing him.

“And hey, I gotta say, Akane is looking—” Ryoga put his fingers together in a circle and let out an appreciative whistle. 

“What is your deal?”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Ryoga said. “I’m still in love with Nabiki. I’m just saying, Akane is keeping it fit, you know what I mean?”

“We just became friends again and you’re treading on thin ice, bud,” said Ranma, yanking Ryoga out of the laundry room. “Now come on, help me make dinner for my parents.”

* * *

_ Ding -dong. _

“Can’t believe we have a doorbell,” Ryoichi said as he walked up to open the front door. “Yo, Gr—sensei! It’s you!”

Toshiko, standing in the doorway in a nice floral dress, gave him a friendly smile. “Ryoichi-kun, how nice to see you.”

“You too,” said Ryoichi, smiling in return and watching as she stepped inside to remove her shoes. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Oh? Your mother didn’t tell you she invited me for dinner?”

“No she did not,” replied Ryoichi. “I was expecting my grandparents.”

“Ah,” said Toshiko, pushing her glasses up her nose. “I see.”

“Toshiko-sensei!” Akane ran into the foyer from the back hallway and threw her arms around her old friend. “You made it! Where’s Shizuka?”

“Unfortunately, my wife is away for a conference until next week. You’ll just have to put up with my company for tonight,” said Toshiko. “And your in-laws, I’ve heard.”

Akane laughed nervously. “The more the merrier, you know?”

Toshiko gave her a wry smile as Akane walked them both to the living room. Ryoichi remained by the door, trying to figure out why his mother had invited Toshiko-sensei. The table sure was going to be crowded tonight. 

_ Ding-dong. _

“That really tickles me every time,” Ryoichi said to himself with a grin. He opened the front door again and this time was greeted by the guests he was expecting. 

“Gran! Grandpa Panda!”

His grandparents stepped inside, the panda ducking to fit in the door frame, and gave him a hug.

“Ryoichi! Nice to see you!” Nodoka said, smiling.

“Ah, it’s only been a few days—”

“Grandpa Panda!” Twin voices of Mitsuko and Keiko, running in and jumping on their grandfathers’ stomach, clinging tightly. They both turned their faces to the side and said to Nodoka simultaneously in much calmer tones, “Hi, Gran.”

Nodoka laughed. “Perhaps I should get myself a Jusenkyo curse.”

“They’re not all great,” said Ryoichi. “I heard Rantaro’s dad turns into a baby pig.”

“He does?” Keiko asked, eyes growing wide. “I wanna see!”

She jumped off of her grandfather and ran out of the foyer, disappearing around the corner. 

“Wait, Keiko—” Ryoichi ran after his little sister all the way to the kitchen. Ryoga and Ranma were finishing plating dinner right as she slid over the tile in her socks. Ryoichi grabbed for her, but she ducked, and he stumbled forward. She popped up behind him and grabbed a glass of water.

“Uncle Ryoga!” she shouted.

He turned to look at her with curiosity. “Hmm?”

_ Splash. _

Keiko watched with delight as her uncle disappeared and a pile of slightly damp clothes fell to the floor. A bweeing black piglet made his way free and she clasped her hands together with excitement. 

“He’s so cute!” She bent down and scooped him into her arms. The piglet tried to wiggle free, but her grip was too tight. “I wish I knew this before!”

“Keiko, it’s not very nice to transform your uncle right before dinner,” Ranma said with a scolding sigh. He picked up several dishes and balanced them on his good arm as he used his other hand to hold his cane. “Ryoichi, can you help me with the rest?” 

“No problem, Dad,” Ryoichi replied, carrying the rest of the food. Keiko followed her father and brother to the living room, the piglet squealing as loud as it could.

“Oh calm down,” said Ranma. “We’ll change you back when Akane boils the water for tea.”

“Speaking of tea,” said Ryoichi as they walked down the hallway. “We have an extra guest.”

“Oh?” asked Ranma as they entered the living room. “Ah. Toshiko.” 

Toshiko smiled at Ranma and helped him set the food on the table. His parents were already sitting, Mitsuko still holding onto her grandfather’s stomach. 

“Ranma. Wonderful to see you. How’s the bakery?”

“Busy as ever,” he replied, looking over at Akane. His wife gave him a wide grin, showing her teeth. With another sigh, he sat down next to her and squeezed her hand under the table. 

“Look, Mitsuko!” Keiko took a seat next to her grandfather and held up the piglet to show her sister. “Look how cute Uncle Ryoga is!”

Mitsuko wrinkled her nose up. “Eh.”

“Not as much like Nabiki as I thought,” said Ranma good-naturedly. 

“Dinner looks wonderful, Ranma,” said Nodoka. “Did Akane help you cook?”

Akane opened her mouth to reply, but Ranma cut her off.

“You know she didn’t, Mom.”

“Ah, well, that’s probably because she was quite busy, isn’t it?” said Toshiko, helping to pass out the bowls of rice. “Earlier when she texted me she said she was giving the bathroom a deep clean.”

“Oh, yes, I’m sure it gets quite dirty with all the extra people staying here,” said Nodoka, picking up a jar of soy sauce. 

“Yes, I’ve always found Akane to be quite hospitable,” replied Toshiko, her smile not wavering. “She is an excellent host.”

“I wouldn’t know,” said Nodoka. “We don’t even stay overnight at Christmas.”

“No wonder Akane is always cleaning the dojo by herself the day after. And she always leaves it sparkling.”

“The kids would help her, if she provided them the motivation—”

“She believes the kids should remain kids, and lets them sleep in during their vacation,” Toshiko took a bite of fish. “She’s a very considerate mother.”

Nodoka sniffed. “Too permissive, if you asked me.”

Toshiko’s smile grew. “Hmm, I don’t believe I did ask a question. Must be a misunderstanding.”

Ryoichi looked back and forth between his grandmother and his mother’s old friend. Neither one of these women were martial artists, but they were both emanating a near visible aura of passive-aggressiveness. It was truly terrifying, in a way that made his spine feel like a river of ice. His mother looked happier than he had seen her in a long time. 

“You know,” said Ranma, clearing his throat. “I could really go for some tea.”

Toshiko set her chopsticks on top of her rice bowl. “I would be happy to brew some, if you’d like.”

“You’re a guest,” said Akane, leaping to her feet. “Allow me.”

“We can both go,” said Toshiko, also standing.

“Oh, I can’t wait to show you this new teapot—”

The piglet finally managed to free itself from Keiko’s arms and jumped over the table, following the two women into the kitchen. 

“Aww,” said Keiko in disappointment. 

“It is good to see Toshiko-sensei again,” Nodoka said, smiling at Ranma. “I am so glad Akane invited her over.”

“Yeah,” said Ranma, taking a bite of rice. “It was a nice surprise.”

“Oh?” Nodoka raised her eyebrows. “Akane didn’t tell you Toshiko-sensei was coming?”

“Well, to be fair,” Ranma said, swallowing his mouthful of food. “Your coming over was also sort of a surprise.”

“My apologies,” said Nodoka. “I didn’t realize family dinner was such an imposition.”

Ranma slammed his hand on the table in frustration. “This is why you can’t live here, Mom.”

“Excuse me?”

“Look, I know you love me, I know you love the kids, but this weird grudge you have against Akane is too much. You gotta adjust your attitude.”

Nodoka’s shoulders stiffened. “I do not have a grudge against Akane—”

“Ah, come on, you absolutely do,” Ranma said, waving his hand back and forth. “And it gets worse every time I see you.”

“Am I so awful that your wife really needed to recruit an entire defense squad to deal with me?” Nodoka asked. “Or is she not capable of fighting her own battles?"

“So you admit it’s a fight,” said Ranma smugly. “Just lay off her, will ya?”

“Fine, perhaps it’s better if I leave then,” said Nodoka, standing up. “I know when I’m not wanted.”

Ranma crossed his arms and glared up at his mother. “I don’t think you do.”

Nodoka frowned but said nothing else, simply turning to march out of the room, grabbing the panda by the back of its neck and dragging it away with surprising strength. Ranma grabbed his plate and started scarfing down food angrily. The children left around the table all shared looks, concerned. Rantaro nudged Ryoichi, as if urging him to say something.

“That was kinda mean, Dad,” Ryoichi said softly. 

“So?” Ranma asked, his mouth full of food. 

“That’s Gran. You can’t be mean to an old lady.”

“I seem to remember you yelling at her not that long ago,” Ranma retorted.

“She apologized! And has been nothing but nice to Mitsuko ever since,” said Ryoichi. 

“Well she’s never apologized to your mother,” Ranma said. “And she’s not nice to her, either.”

“Maybe if they stayed here, she and Mom could bond—”

“Absolutely not!” Ranma slammed his empty plate on the table. “I won’t hear anymore about it.”

“Anymore about what?” Akane asked as she, Toshiko, and Ryoga returned from the kitchen, carrying tea for everyone. 

“Dad yelled at Gran,” said Keiko.

“Oh, did she leave?” Akane asked, passing out the tea and barely suppressing a smile. “What a shame.”

“I wish you had told me you needed support with your in-laws,” said Toshiko, taking a seat at the table. “Of course I’m happy to help, but it would have been better with preparation.”

“Sorry,” mumbled Akane as she sat next to Ranma. “I’m just tired of her picking on me all the time.”

“Why does she act like that anyway?” Ryoga asked, sitting by Rantaro and handing him a cup of tea. “She used to like you a lot.”

“I don’t know,” sighed Akane. “She was always closer to Nabiki, for some reason. And once she moved to America and we saw them less, she got worse.”

“See, Dad?” said Ryoichi. “It’s the time apart that makes them argue. Maybe you should let them stay here for a while.”

“Stop bringing it up,” said Ranma. “It’s not going to happen.”

“Why not?” said Keiko. “I want a panda!”

“Me too!” agreed Mitsuko. “Panda! Panda! Panda! Panda!”

Keiko joined her and the two of them began shouting in unison, “Panda! Panda! Panda! Panda!”

“NO!” Ranma boomed at the top of his lungs. “Chanting is not going to get you your way this time!”

The twins, for once, quieted and resumed poking at their dinner. Their father very, very rarely said no to them, at least not seriously. This he seemed serious about, and they weren’t used to the feeling of being denied. 

“You know, Ranma,” said Toshiko softly. “Have you tried having a discussion with your mother about these issues?”

“Bleh,” he said, waving his hands dismissively. “You always want me to talk about my feelings.”

Toshiko smiled. “It helps, doesn’t it?”

Ranma pouted and looked away. Reluctantly, he muttered, “Sometimes.”

“I’m the one who should talk to her,” said Akane. “But I just get so angry! Or scared. Or scared and angry, and that doesn’t do anyone any good.”

“Hmm,” said Toshiko, tapping her chin. “Perhaps I can help you with that.”

* * *

Ranma sat on the deck, looking out over the koi pond, an ice cold beer on the floor beside him. Full moon tonight, the bright white light reflecting in the water of the pond. For the first time all day, the house was quiet. Toshiko had left after having a private conversation with Akane. The kids were all in bed, and Ryoga too, since he was always saying his back hurt, the big baby.

Ranma had felt a little bad and texted his mother not too long ago. She had replied with an apology and an I love you, which made him feel even more guilty. It was hard, sometimes. His father had mellowed as he grew older, especially after Akane’s dad died. And Genma was a way better grandfather than he had been a father. His mother had just become more and more unpredictable, and he didn’t know what to do about it. They were the kids’ only grandparents, and his only parents. Distance did seem to keep their relationship healthier, but they couldn’t stay in that hotel forever. 

“Dad?”

Ranma took a long drink from his beer as he turned and looked up to see his son standing a few feet away, in a tank top and pajama pants. Ranma swallowed and set the bottle down, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“What’s up, Ryoichi?”

Tentatively, Ryoichi sat down on his knees and faced his father. “I wanted to talk about Gran and Grandpa Panda.”

Ranma sighed. “What is it going to take for you to drop this?”

“I’m not gonna drop it! I think you should let them live here.”

“Look, Ryoichi,” said Ranma, crossing his arms. “This isn’t—you wouldn’t understand.”

“I wouldn’t understand because you never tell me anything!” Ryoichi yelled. He had never yelled at his dad. Not for real. “Everything is secrets and you lied to me my whole life! You made me and Mom hide things from you and you named me after a guy I never even met! And now you don’t even want Gran and Grandpa Panda to move back in with us—”

“No, I don’t!” Ranma shouted, interrupting his son. “Listen to me.”

Ryoichi, still angry, glared at his father. A gentle breeze blew through the open doors, the wind chime above their heads tinkling softly.

“Ryoichi, I—” Ranma gritted his teeth. “I’m not perfect. I messed up. A lot. As a dad. As a husband. As a person. And I shouldn’t have hid those things from you. But I—my parents are—I love them. But they weren’t—they weren’t just not perfect. They were pretty terrible, sometimes. Especially your grandfather. And for a long time, it was just me and him. And that was my whole world.”

Ryoichi said nothing. 

Ranma started again. “I didn’t have a family, really. Until I found one, here. Your mother. Her sisters. Her father, even. He was a little weepy, but he was a great guy. Just loved his daughters too much. But he treated me like his own son. I wish you had gotten to know him. I was always happy he got to meet you.”

Ryoichi felt pained at the loss of a man he couldn’t remember, who he knew his mother loved deeply.

“And I didn’t just find a family. I made my own. I don’t just mean marrying your mother and having kids, but—letting all my friends in. Ukyo. Hiroshi. Toshiko. And most importantly, Ryoga. He was my brother.”

“But you—”

“He said something really terrible, you know? Didn’t just hurt me. Hurt your mother, too. But she’s a better person than me. Always has been. She wanted to forgive him right away. But I couldn’t. I was too weak to forgive.”

Ryoichi started to regret starting this conversation with his father. Everything was too adult. Over his head. 

Not true. He had twice the empathy and compassion of most boys his age. But it was too much, hearing his father open up like this.

“But keeping him out—that meant my family got smaller. First Nabiki had moved away. Then your grandfather died. Then my own parents left. And then my own brother was gone, taking his son with him.”

“But you still have—”

“I know what I have.” Ranma smiled then, although there were tears in his eyes. “I have you. Your sisters. Your aunt and uncle and your cousins and all my friends and their children, and your mother. I would have none of that, without your mother. She’s my home. And she doesn’t want them here.”

Ryoichi furrowed his brow, confused. “What?”

“My mother hurt your mother when she moved away. Hurt me too, but definitely your mother hurt worse. She never knew what it was like to have a mom. I didn’t either, not really. But your grandmother moving away made your mother feel like she had been rejected by the closest thing she had to a mom. And one more time, I’m too weak to forgive her. I can’t forgive my own mother for hurting my wife.”

Ryoichi thought about this for a long time. He had a hard time forgiving someone who hurt his mother, too. 

“Dad,” he said softly. “Do you think I can ever love someone half as much as you love mom?”

Ranma, never one to stay serious for too long, threw his head back and laughed. “Knowing you? Twice as much.”

“You think so?”

“Sure. You’re half me, half her. Math checks out.”

“What?! No!” 

This was Mitsuko’s tiny frustrated voice, coming from around the corner of the hallway where her head was underneath Keiko, who was underneath Akane, who was underneath Rantaro, as they had all spied on the father and son private conversation.

“Hey,” growled Ranma. “You all were eavesdropping?”

“That’s not how math works, Dad!” Mitsuko shouted, slapping the floor with her palm. 

“Oh, Ranma.” Akane, teary-eyed, pushed past her children and threw herself into her husband’s arms. “I don’t hate your mom.”

“I know you don’t,” he said, putting an arm around her. “But they still can’t stay here.”

“But where will they go?” asked Keiko, as everyone gathered into the living room proper. 

“I have an idea,” said Rantaro quietly. The Saotome family turned to look up at him all at once, bearing identical expressions. It was honestly a little creepy. He cleared his throat. 

“What is it, Rantaro?” Ryoichi asked.

“The little apartment above the bakery. I know your dad uses it for storage, but—”

“Oh, Ranma, that’s a great idea!” Akane exclaimed, smiling as she pulled back a little from her husband. 

“I guess so,” said Ranma, rubbing his chin. “Needed to clear all that junk out of there anyway.”

“Yay, cleaning project!” cried Akane and Mitsuko together, throwing up their arms in celebration. 

“Great, everybody’s happy,” said Ranma, quickly finishing his beer. “Now everyone go to bed.”

The others all turned and got up to leave the room, including Akane, who Ranma grabbed by the wrist and pulled into his lap.

“Not you, dummy,” Ranma said, putting his arms around her waist. “You stay here with me.”

Akane giggled. “Ranma! We should go to bed too, you have to get up early.”

“Eh, I always have to get up early.” Ranma grinned and tickled her slightly underneath her ribs. “But we can stay up late, be adults, if you know what I mean.”

Akane giggled again, squirming in his lap playfully. “I know what you mean.”

“Gross!” yelled Keiko, turning around to make a face at them. 

“This is why they told us to go to bed.” Ryoichi scooped her up around the waist and carried her the rest of the way upstairs, followed by Rantaro and Mitsuko. 

“Still gross,” muttered Keiko, crossing her arms as her brother held her. 

“They’re just in love,” Ryoichi said as he let her down in front of her bedroom door. 

“Double gross,” she grumbled, opening her door. “Goodnight. I love you.”

“Love you too,” said Ryoichi and Mitsuko in unison. Rantaro rolled his eyes. 

Keiko stared directly at him, holding onto the doorknob. “I said ‘I love you.’”

Ryoichi and Mitsuko turned to him expectantly. Confused, he replied slowly, “I love you too?”

Keiko nodded and shut the door. Mitsuko ran over to her own room shouting, “Goodnight, I love you!”

“Love you too,” said Ryoichi, as Rantaro grumbled a half second later, “Love you too, I guess.”

“Don’t worry,” Ryoichi told Rantaro with a grin as he approached his own bedroom. “I won’t make you say it to me.”

“Good, cuz I wouldn’t,” Rantaro growled and stomped over to the guest room, slamming the door shut behind him. 

Ryoichi frowned, remaining in the hallway and staring at the closed door for a moment. Rantaro was such a moody guy. Ryoichi could never get a handle on how Rantaro actually felt. Sometimes they seemed to be having fun, other times Rantaro seemed on the edge of despair for no reason at all. It made Ryoichi want to take care of him.

Then again, Ryoichi wanted to take care of everybody.

With a sigh, he finally entered his own room and went to bed.


	16. Part Whatever

_ When they were 42 _

“Here we go again,” Keiko said, writing on the pad of paper she had set up on an easel in the living room. “Parent Trap part—what part are we on? Three? Four?”

“I dunno,” said Ryoichi. “Does it matter?”

Keiko briefly chewed on her bottom lip and tapped the end of the marker to her chin. “Guess not.”

The marker squeaked and she stepped back to reveal the writing on top of the paper that read, “Parent Trap Part: Whatever.”

“Looks good,” said Mitsuko before turning her attention back to her Switch, furiously tapping a series of buttons. “Stupid goose—”

“Ah! You get to be a goose?!” Akane eagerly leaned over to where Mitsuko was sitting on a pile of cushions and adjusted her glasses on her nose. “Wow! It’s so cute!”

“The goose is a jerk, Mom,” Mitsuko replied with a sigh. 

Akane smiled. “It’s still cute, just like your father.”

“Aw,” said Ryoichi.

“I’m not a goose,” said Ranma. 

“I think she meant that you’re a jerk,” said Ryoga, sitting next to him.

Ranma shrugged. “Well, sometimes. Got me there. And I am cute.”

“Does no one pay attention to me?!” Keiko yelled, stomping her foot.

“I was paying attention,” said Rantaro. He was sitting closest to her, at the corner of the table. Keiko blinked at his earnest expression in surprise. Finding herself blushing, she quickly looked away, back at the pad of paper.

“Maybe I do like Rantaro,” she muttered under her breath.

“What?” asked Rantaro.

“What?” asked Ryoichi.

“What?” asked Ryoga.

Mitsuko held in a snorting series of giggles without looking up from her Switch. Ranma smirked and crossed his arms. Akane's eyes softened and she gave her daughter a warm smile. 

“Oh, Keiko—”

“Never mind!” Keiko shouted, her face bright red. She slapped the easel with her hand, nearly knocking it over. “Parent trap! The next step!”

“What is the next step, Keiko-chan?” Akane asked politely, folding her hands on top of the table. 

“Well, in the movie, they reenact the first date,” said Keiko, writing “First Date” on the paper. “Uncle Ryoga, what was your first date with Aunt Nabiki?”

“Hmm.” Ryoga crossed his arms over his chest and scratched his chin with one finger. “Hard to say. I guess that time I showed up and she let me sleep on her floor?”

“Not really a date,” said Ranma. “When did you two go out together for the first time?”

“Maybe that time we sat in the back of the bar when Mamoru was singing,” said Ryoga. A dreamy smile crossed his face. “And we talked about my parents. And we made fun of you and Akane having sex.”

“What?!” Akane shouted, blushing furiously.

“Well, we did use to be pretty loud,” said Ranma with a smirk.

“You’re still loud,” muttered Rantaro. 

Akane hid her face in her hands but Ranma’s grin only grew. 

“What can I say? I still got it,” he said. 

“Gross,” said Keiko, rolling her eyes. 

“She’s right, we shouldn’t talk about that stuff in front of the kids,” hissed Akane. 

“Anyway!” Keiko shouted, trying to get back on track. “Who is Mamoru?”

“One of her bandmates,” said Ryoga.

“That’s right, she was in a band in university,” murmured Keiko thoughtfully. “But I don’t know how we can get her in a bar alone with you without her getting suspicious.”

“What else happens in the movie?” asked Rantaro.

“Well, they go camping,” said Keiko. “Aunt Nabiki is like the dad in the movie, and they go camping to show the dad how terrible his new fiance is. But Aunt Nabiki hates camping anyway.”

“True,” said Ryoga. “She did try to go with me a couple times, for support, though.”

“Aw,” said Akane.

“We should take Aunt Nabiki someplace she would like to go,” said Keiko. “Like a five star restaurant in Hong Kong or something. Or shopping in Paris. Fancy vacation.”

“Dad,” said Rantaro, looking across the table to Ryoga. “What about Mizukaya?”

“Mizukaya?” repeated Ryoichi. “That fancy resort they show on tv commercials all the time?”

“Yeah,” said Rantaro. “Dad owns it.”

“You do?” Ranma asked Ryoga.

“I bought it a few years ago,” Ryoga replied with a shrug. “Seemed like a good investment. It runs itself, though, I hardly ever need to do anything.”

“Look, look!” Ryoichi thrust his phone into the middle of the table, having brought the resort’s website onto the screen. “It’s got waterslides! Multiple pools! Like three hotels!”

“Ooh, look at all those restaurants,” said Akane. “And shopping too!”

“The video game museum is right next to it!” shouted Mitsuko. 

“You bought this whole place?” asked Ranma. “And just forgot to mention it?’

Ryoga shrugged again. “I buy stuff all the time.”

“Yeah, but entire luxury resorts?”

“Just this one.”

Ranma opened his mouth to say something else, but Keiko interrupted him with a defiant declaration.

“Sounds like we’re going on vacation!”

“Ooh, yes!” said Mitsuko, clapping her hands. 

“You have school!” said Akane.

“Aw, come on, Mom, we can miss a week or two,” Keiko said, waving her hand. 

“A week?! Or two! That is way too much!”

“Rantaro doesn’t have to go to school,” Keiko grumbled.

“I do online school, on my phone,” said Rantaro, holding his phone up between his thumb and forefinger, screen out.

Keiko’s eyes brightened. “You can do that?”

“You have to go to school, Keiko,” said Akane.

“Mom, Mom, come on,” said Keiko, throwing herself to her knees and leaning her elbows on the table, clasping her hands together in a pleading position. “Just one week. It’s all we need. One week free vacation at a fancy luxury resort!”

“Free?” asked Ryoga, frowning.

Everyone else turned and stared at him in uniform silence.

“All right, free,” he said with a sigh, blowing his hair out of his face.

“And Mom, you can invite Aunt Nabiki and Blaine and tell them it’s like, research for their honeymoon or whatever,” said Keiko. 

“What about the bakery?” Akane asked Ranma.

“Hiroshi can handle it. I bet Mom and Pop would help watch over it, too, since they’re living over there now.”

Akane looked around the table. Her children all looked so excited. Ranma looked so excited. And honestly, she could use a break.

“Fine,” she said at last. The children cheered, but she continued, “For one week! One week only! You won’t miss any more school than that!”

“We’ll leave on a Friday and come back on a Sunday, so it’s really more like nine days,” Keiko said. After the sharp look she received from her mother, she added, “No more than that! I promise!”

“Hmmph,” said Akane, taking a sip of tea, but adding nothing else. 

“Great,” said Keiko, turning around to face the easel again. She pushed her glasses up her nose and scrunched her face up thoughtfully. “Now, Uncle Ryoga, about that band . . .”

* * *

_ Mitsuko Saotome created the group Parent Trappers _

_ Mitsuko set the nickname for Ranma Saotome to Dad _

_ Mitsuko set the nickname for Akane Saotome to Mom _

_ Mitsuko set the nickname for Ryoga Hibiki to Uncle Ryoga _

_ Mitsuko set the nickname for Keiko Saotome to Buttface _

**Mom:** When did Keiko get a phone?!?!?!

**Mitsuko:** I bought her one

**Mom:** Why do I even bother to give you guys rules?!!

**Mitsuko:** idk

**Buttface:** Set my name back!

**Mitsuko:** 3000 yen

**Buttface:** EXTORTION

**Rantaro:** do we need a group chat when we all live in the same house

**Mitsuko:** we’re travelling, we need to coordinate

_ Uncle Ryoga changed the image for the group _

**Ryoichi:** who is that in the picture

**Uncle Ryoga:** Haley Mills

**Buttface:** who tf is Haley Mills

**Uncle Ryoga:** from the original parent trap

**Buttface** : what do you mean original

_ Uncle Ryoga changed the chat theme to Mango _

_ Uncle Ryoga set the emoji to 👂 _

**Mom:** why the ear?

**Uncle Ryoga:** we need to listen to each other

**Buttface:** UGH

**Rantaro:** it’s a little literal, dad

**Dad:** heyyy i maed it

**Ryoichi:** you need glasses dad

**Buttface:** TYPO IN THE GROUP CHAT

**Uncle Ryoga:** 👂

**Mom:** are we actually going to be able to use this chat for organizing anything?

**Buttface:** I still don’t kno who tf hayley mills is

**Mitsuko:** we need to have a plan for after we get there tomorrow

**Dad:** I do NOTT NEED GLASSES!!!1

**Ryoichi:** omg you type soooooo slow

**Mitsuko:** I wanna play pranks on Blaine. who’s got ideas? Keiko?

**Buttface:** you can’t just put me on the spot like that

**Uncle Ryoga:** well he doesn’t like kids. maybe create some sort of situation where he has to babysit you two? 

**Buttface:** YES I can be so OBNOXIOUS

**Mitsuko:** that’s true. I bet i can get some money out of him too

**Mom:** but what if he neglects them???? they could get hurt

**Buttface:** we can take care of ourselves

**Dad:** I do not!

**Ryoichi:** are you JUST replying NOW?!?!

**Mom:** it just doesn’t seem safe

**Rantaro:** you can watch them, secretly

**Mom:** I suppose….

**Ryoichi:** I’ll help watch too mom

**Uncle Ryoga:** 👂


	17. Friday

_ When they were 42 _

_ Friday _

“You know, Akane, I didn’t think we would need nine whole days to check out a wedding venue, but this place is pretty nice,” Nabiki said, lowering her sunglasses from the top of her head to her face. The rest of the family were unloading their luggage from the shuttle van in front of the entrance to Mizukaya’s main hotel. Nabiki watched from the sidewalk as her sister continued stacking up pieces of luggage onto a wheeled cart. 

“You think so?” asked Akane, as she started pulling the cart up the sidewalk. Rantaro and Ryoichi pushed another one behind her, Keiko and Mitsuko riding on top. Blaine and Ranma walked with the last one, Ranma not really putting any effort into pushing, using his cane as an excuse. 

“I do,” said Nabiki. Unencumbered, she held the front door to the lobby open as the others filed inside. “How did you get this for free again?”

“I told you,” said Akane with a smile, welcoming the cool blast of air conditioning coming from the lobby. “I’m friends with the owner.”

“Who is the owner?” Nabiki asked, wide-eyed.

Akane didn’t reply, simply turned her smile straight ahead. Nabiki followed her gaze to the center of the room, where there was a large, indoor stone fountain. The steps of it were adorned with brightly colored tropical plants, the water flowing evenly downwards. At the top of the fountain was an intricately carved statue that Nabiki knew all too well.

“Oh no,” Nabiki moaned, her shoulders slumping. “It’s—”

“It’s Kamapua’a!” Ranma yelled, staggering forward. A gigantic, open mouth smile crossed his face as he looked up at the boar carving, tears of joy springing to his eyes. He placed his hand flat over his heart and patted his chest a few times, shaking his head gently in disbelief. Choked up, he turned to his wife and said, “Akane! He kept it! He kept Kamapua’a!”

“I see that,” Akane said. 

“Sure did, bud.”

Ranma turned to the left of the fountain, where Ryoga was standing and grinning. Ranma walked over to him as fast as he could and wrapped him in a hug. 

“I can’t believe you kept it,” Ranma said, trying not to weep openly.

“Yeah,” said Ryoga, returning the hug. As they pulled back, he clapped Ranma on the shoulder. “When I bought this place, I had them remodel the entrance and put it in here. I always liked it, even if we weren’t getting along.”

Ranma, genuinely touched, let a couple tears fall. “This is the greatest day of my life.”

“Hey,” said Akane, yanking him away. “What about our wedding day? Or the births of our children?”

“Very close two, three, and four,” said Ranma. “Not in that order.”

“Ryoga!” Nabiki marched over and looked up at him, crossing her arms. “You’re the owner? Of this whole place?!”

“Yeah,” he replied, grinning. “Do you like it?”

“It’s fine,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “But you’re wearing a polo shirt? Really?”

Ryoga looked down at his outfit, which was, indeed, a pale blue polo shirt that was just a little too tight on him and khaki slacks. “This is what a business owner wears, isn’t it?”

Nabiki shrugged one shoulder. “I liked the henley.”

“Well, it’s a little warm for that, don’t you think?”

“It is warm,” she agreed with a smirk.

“What’s with the pig, babe?” Blaine asked, startling the pair out of their banter.

“Ah,” said Nabiki, taking a deep breath. “Kamapua’a. It’s some Hawaiian deity. Ranma bought it for Ryoga as a souvenir from his honeymoon.”

Blaine laughed. “Wasn’t that like thirty-five years ago?”

“Twenty-four,” Akane grumbled, frowning. 

“Let’s get you checked in,” Ryoga said, clapping his hands together. He led them over to the front desk, talking as the clerk gathered together keys and paperwork. “Ranma and Akane, you have a whole suite, all to yourselves.”

“Nice,” Ranma said, grinning lustily. 

“The kids have a two bedroom suite down the hall from you, it’s pretty nice.”

“Is there a minibar?” asked Ryoichi.

“No drinking! You’re too young!” exclaimed Akane.

“I’m gonna drink,” said Ranma. “I’m gonna drink a lot.”

“I just wanted snacks,” Ryoichi replied, defending himself. 

“And Nabiki and Blaine,” Ryoga said, turning to the couple and personally handing them their room keycards and welcome packet. “You’re in the honeymoon suite.”

“Really?” Nabiki raised one eyebrow suspiciously, taking the papers from him. 

“Sure,” he said. “Why not?”

She narrowed her eyes at him, but Ryoga only grinned in return. 

“Sounds great, thanks man,” said Blaine. 

Ryoga gave him a thumbs up. “No problem.”

Everyone’s rooms were on the top floor, although spaced apart. The honeymoon suite was all the way at the end of the hallway, while the others were closer to the elevator. Ranma held the door open for Akane as she wheeled the luggage cart into their room. The second she was inside he turned to walk back to the elevator.

“Where are you going?” Akane demanded from the doorway. 

“I’m gonna go get something to drink,” said Ranma. “I have a feeling I’m going to need to be extremely drunk for this entire week.”

He started walking down the hallway, Akane following him. He pressed the down button next to the elevator.

“So you’re not going to help me unpack? Or get the kids set up?”

_ Ding. _

“Ryoichi and Rantaro can handle the kids. And you know I’m no good at organizing.” Ranma stepped through the open elevator doors and turned around to face his wife. “Don’t worry, I’ll bring you back something.”

She placed her hands on her hips and glared at him. “Ranma, I need you to—”

“SorryAkanetheresnotime—” he yelled as the elevator doors closed on his smug face. 

“Rum and coke!” Akane called, although the doors were fully shut. She grumbled to herself and walked down the hallway to the kids’ room. Both bedrooms had folding wooden doors that opened to a spacious living area complete with a large couch, table, and television. The doors to the twins’ room were wide open. Akane could see Keiko jumping on the bed and Mistuko laying her clothes out neatly. 

“Hey Mom!” said Keiko, cheerfully bouncing up and down. “This place is so cool! Look how big this bed is!”

“I see that,” said Akane. “But you shouldn’t jump on it.”

“Why not? It’s fun and it’s not like we’d have to pay for if it breaks.” Keiko kept bouncing, her pigtails flying. 

“Fair point,” Akane said with a smile. With a second of consideration, she stepped up onto the bed herself and started jumping as well, holding hands with her daughter. “You’re right, it is fun! Mitsuko, do you want to join us?”

“Physical activity?” She rolled her eyes and started smoothing out a pair of shorts she had packed. “No thanks.”

“You guys are jumping on the bed?” Ryoichi asked, he and Rantaro having come over from their room next to them in the suite. “I wanna jump on the bed!”

“No way, you’re too tall,” Keiko said, still going. “You’ll hit your giant head on the ceiling!”

“My head’s not that big, is it?” he asked Rantaro.

Rantaro shrugged. “Well—”

Meanwhile, Ryoga was personally escorting Nabiki and Blaine to the honeymoon suite. It was nicer than the other rooms by far. Beautifully decorated with large windows and a sliding door that led to an expansive balcony and a view of the full resort, the ocean in the near distance. On the mahogany table in the living area was a large gift basket and an ice bucket with two bottles of champagne. 

“Whoa-ho-ho,” said Blaine appreciatively, picking up one of the bottles and checking the label. “This stuff is actually champagne! You know if it’s not from France, it’s—”

“Sparkling wine, yes, I know,” Nabiki said with a sigh. She turned to Ryoga, her suspicion higher than ever. “This _is_ a really nice room.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Ryoga said, smiling. “Although I can’t take credit for it, I just bought the place.”

“Yeah,” said Nabiki, her eyebrows slanting. “How about that?”

“How about that?” Ryoga echoed in a friendly tone.

“And you really want me and Blaine to stay here? Together?”

“Sure,” said Ryoga. “You two are getting married, aren’t you?”

“You know it,” Blaine said, struggling to open the champagne bottle. 

“Nabiki,” Ryoga said, sticking his hands in his pockets. “I promise, I absolutely want you and Blaine to stay in this room.”

* * *

Dinner took place on an outdoor terrace that overlooked the waterfall behind the resort. The outdoor eatery was bustling, every table full of guests, well dressed and attentive staff weaving their way through. On a lower level, a band was playing calming, tropical sounding music. Ryoichi and his family had the biggest table in the place, raised a few steps from the rest, nestled in a corner surrounded by cool lighting and large, leafy plants. 

“One more, one more, one more,” Ranma chanted as their server took his latest empty glass. He had been drinking a large variety of cocktails and beer throughout the day, and now he was trying not to slump at the table, his Hawaiian shirt hanging open as he struggled to keep his eyes focused.

“Haven’t you had enough?” Nabiki asked, leaning her elbows on the edge of the table.

“No,” said Ranma, offended. “Vacation.”

“He’s right, it’s vacation,” agreed Akane, sipping her third rum and coke from a bright blue straw. “Lighten up.”

Nabiki frowned. “You know—”

“Aw, come on, babe, they’re just having fun,” said Blaine, sitting next to her.

“My man,” said Ranma, sloppily pointing a finger gun at him.

“It’s gotta be hard to have any fun when you’ve got three kids,” Blaine continued. “I bet they don’t even get to have sex anymore.”

“We have sex!” shouted Ranma, as Ryoichi put his hands over Keiko’s ears and Rantaro put his hands over Mitsuko’s. “We have a lot of sex!”

Akane pinched the bridge of her nose with two fingers, her glasses inching up. “Ranma—”

“Well, we do!”

A server stepped up to their platform and leaned down to Ryoga, saying something softly in his ear. Ryoga looked back up at her and nodded. “Tell him we’re done, he can come on up.”

The server gave a shallow bow with her head and swiftly departed. 

“Who’s comin’?” asked Ranma, grabbing Akane’s rum and coke and sipping with a slurp.

“Our entertainment director, he had a question. Ah, here he is.”

A tall, lanky man with bleached hair hopped up to their table gracefully, holding a clipboard. “You sure I’m not interrupting, boss?”

Ryoga shook his head. “It’s fine, let me see.”

The man handed Ryoga the clipboard and Ryoga lifted up the papers, inspecting them. The entertainment director looked around the table and when his eyes landed on Nabiki, he grinned. 

“Nabiki Tendo!”

Nabiki looked up from her glass of water and her mouth dropped open in shock, her eyes wide. 

“Mamo-chan?"

Mamoru raised his eyebrows excitedly. “Long time no see! I didn’t expect to run into you here!”

“Wha—what are you doing here, exactly, Mamo-chan?”

“I work here,” he replied, taking the clipboard as Ryoga handed it back to him. “About two weeks ago, Ryoga called up and offered me a job as entertainment director. Can you believe it?”

“No,” said Nabiki, shooting a glare at the end of the table. Ryoga flashed her his brightest smile. “I can’t.”

“Ami too, she’s my assistant,” Mamoru added, double checking the forms. 

“Is she?” Nabiki asked, her voice strained. 

“Who is this guy, babe?” Blaine asked, nodding his head at Mamoru.

Nabiki turned to him, the muscles in her face very tight. “Twenty years ago, Mamoru and I—”

“We were in a band,” said Mamoru with a wink. “And we were great.”

“Wow, a band, babe?” asked Blaine. “I didn’t even know you could sing. Or did you play an instrument?”

“She sang,” Ryoga said softly. “And Mamoru was right. She was great.”

Nabiki simply stared down at the end of the table, eyes wide. That guy. Using that voice. How dare he. Unfair, Hibiki. Completely unfair.

“Well, since you’re here,” said Mamoru, an idea clearly overtaking him. “And I’m here, and Ami’s here, I think that maybe—”

“Oh no,” Nabiki sighed, placing her palm flat on her forehead. 

“It’s time to get the band back together.” Mamoru spread his arms wide, his smile nearly as large.

“Absolutely not,” she replied. “We haven’t played together for twenty years.”

“Sounds like it’s time for a reunion tour, then,” Mamoru said with a tilt of his head.

Nabiki took Akane’s rum and coke from Ranma and cast the straw aside before taking a big gulp. “I said no.”

“Too bad,” Mamoru said mournfully. “Although, it does remind me—I have a show of my own, tomorrow night. Right here at the resort, in that cafe attached to the main building.”

Nabiki crinkled her eyebrows. “You? A solo show?”

“Yep,” Mamoru replied. “And it would mean a lot to me for you to come.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, of course.”

A long, long sigh escaped Nabiki’s lungs. Clasping her hands together, she shrugged. “Fine.”

“All right,” Mamoru said, pumping his fist. “Well, I gotta get back to work. See ya!”

He waved with the clipboard as everyone at the table except for Blaine and Nabiki said “Bye!” in a cheerful tone. Once he was gone, Nabiki turned to Ryoga and gave him a piercing look. 

“You hired Mamoru?”

Ryoga shrugged. “Yeah.”

Nabiki pursed her lips. “Why?”

“I needed an entertainment director and he needed a job. It was—um—Ryoichi, what’s the word?”

“Fortuitous,” Ryoichi said with a bright smile.

Ryoga snapped his fingers. “Fortuitous.”

Nabiki slowly shook her head, halfway closing one eye. “Ryoga—”

“Ooh, talk about fortuitous!” Ranma said as a pair of servers walked up, each carrying a tray of drinks. Eagerly, Ranma took a large yellow cocktail from the nearest one and shoved money into her hands.

“You don’t have to tip here,” Ryoga said. 

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Ranma said, immediately putting his lips around the straw in his drink and slurping as quickly as he could. 

Akane took her fresh rum and coke from the other server. She leaned her head against Ranma’s shoulder, swirling the ice around in her drink. “You’re so generous, I love you so much.”

“Akane, don’t get too drunk,” he said. “Because we definitely have plans.”

“Oh?” She giggled, turning her face up to him. “Like what?”

Ryoichi and Rantaro sighed in unison and put their hands over Keiko’s and Mitsuko’s ears again as Ranma said something dirty. Akane giggled again and stood up, pulling Ranma by the wrist away from the table. He grabbed his cane with one hand and his drink with the other, and Akane took her rum and coke and wrapped her free arm around Ranma’s waist. The others let them go and breathed a collective sigh of relief once they were gone. 

“Those two are wildly inappropriate,” Nabiki said, shaking her head and slamming her hands on the table. 

“Sure,” said Ryoga. “But they were always like that. Remember when we shared a wall with them?”

“We?” asked Blaine, looking at Nabiki. She stared back at him in silence, then looked over at Ryoga, her face pale.

“You didn’t tell him?” asked Ryoga, his own face perfectly neutral. 

“Tell me what?” asked Blaine.

“Nothing,” said Nabiki at the same time Ryoga said, “We used to date.”

“You did?” Blaine asked Nabiki. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I—” She wrinkled her nose. Set her jaw. “I didn’t think it was important.”

Ryoga frowned. 

“And besides,” Nabiki added, attempting a breezy smile. “It was so long ago, I pretty much forgot all about it.”

“Oh?” Blaine rubbed his chin. “How long ago?”

“Eighteen years,” Ryoga growled. 

“That is a long time,” Blaine said with a chuckle. “Guess I have nothing to worry about then, huh?”

“You sure don’t,” Nabiki purred, her smile curling up at the ends. She placed a hand on his forearm. “You know, I think I’m ready for bed, too.”

“Sounds great, babe.” Blaine removed the napkin from his lap and placed it on the table. As he stood, he offered his arm to Nabiki who happily took it as she also rose to her feet. 

“Goodnight children,” Nabiki said as they turned to leave. With a smirk, she cast her eyes to the head of the table. “And goodnight, Ryoga.”

The kids mumbled a goodnight while Ryoga simply glowered, his dark eyes blazing. 

“Don’t worry, Uncle Ryoga,” Keiko said once Nabiki and Blaine were out of earshot. “The plan is working!”

“Is it?” he asked with a deep sigh, leaning against the back of his chair. 

“Yep! If she didn’t tell Blaine you guys used to date, then that means she didn’t tell him about the parent trap,” said Keiko. “And that means—”

Ryoga sat up, a gleam returning to his eye. “That means she wants the parent trap to work!”

Keiko nodded eagerly. “Exactly!”

“Is that what that means?” Rantaro mumbled under his breath. 

“She’s been right about everything so far,” Ryoichi replied, smiling.

“And there’s still plenty of time,” said Keiko. “Everything is in place for tonight, right?”

Ryoga nodded. “Although I feel a little bad about it.”

“Don’t feel bad,” said Keiko, beaming. “It’ll all be worth it in the end.”

* * *

Nabiki stepped out of the shower and wrapped a fluffy white hotel robe around herself, tying the belt tightly. Blaine had exited the shower shortly before her and he was working on untucking the blankets from the king size bed. 

“I’m wiped out, babe,” said Blaine as she crossed over to him. “Can’t wait to just chill by the pool tomorrow.”

Nabiki pressed herself up against his chest and wrapped her arms around his torso. Giving him a seductive smirk, she asked, “You sure you don’t have any energy left?”

He placed his arms around her back and grinned. “Well, maybe a little.”

Blaine bent his head down to kiss her. Nabiki lifted herself up on her toes to meet him and did not, even once, think about Ryoga Hibiki. 

_ KRRLUNK. KRRRLUNK. HSSSSS. TCH. KRRACH. SPRSSSSSSSSSSSSSS— _

Nabiki frowned as the torrent of water from the burst pipe in the wall assaulted her brutally. The wall between the bathroom and bedroom had broken apart and everything in the room was quickly becoming soaked by the spray of water. She remained still, staring blankly ahead, as Blaine immediately began to panic and dash around the room.

‘Ahh! No! My iPad cannot get wet! All the pictures of my Lambo are on there!”

After taking a deep breath, Nabiki also began to move quickly and rescue as many of her belongings as she could, although the water was coming fast. Blaine had already rushed out of the room into the hallway, arms full of electronics. She joined him and shut the room door behind her, leaning her back against it. 

It was quite a while before she and Blaine stood in front of a deeply bowing and apologetic Ryoga, who had brought the maintenance man to resolve the issue. Ranma, Akane, and all the kids also stood in the hallway with concerned expressions on their faces. Staff had also given them new, dry robes to wear and promised to launder the clothes they hadn’t managed to rescue in time. 

“I’m so, so, sorry,” Ryoga said, bowing again. He straightened his back and attempted a smile. “This is so horrible. If you weren’t already staying here for free, we would of course have comped you. However, I can issue you vouchers good for up to a two week stay any time in the future.”

A beaming, well dressed young woman standing next to him, a high ranking member of staff, held out the papers to Nabiki. She snatched them away and glared at Ryoga.

“Great,” Nabiki said sharply. “We’ll use them for our honeymoon.”

“I dunno, babe,” said Blaine. “I was thinking Paris.”

“All right, well, the water’s turned off,” the maintenance man said, stepping out of the room, wiping his hands with a towel. “But there’s a lot of damage. The room below is flooded too. Gonna have to pretty much rip everything out of there.”

Nabiki looked at the maintenance man and wrinkled her brow in recognition. 

“Tacchan?” she asked softly.

The maintenance man looked over at her and blinked in surprise. “Tendo! Holy shit. Was not expecting to see you again.”

“What are you doing here?” 

“This guy—” Tadashi jerked a thumb over at Ryoga. “Called me up and offered me a job a couple weeks ago.”

“I’ve been hearing that a lot lately,” Nabiki said with a sigh.

“Who is this guy?” asked Blaine.

Nabiki turned to him, feeling like her arms were going to fall off. “Remember I told you I stayed at a boarding house in university? This guy was the manager.”

“And now you’re a maintenance man?” Blaine wrinkled his nose. “Not really a promotion is it?”

Tadashi frowned. “I couldn’t turn down the pay. Six months working here and I’ll be able to retire.”

“How generous,” Nabiki said, her tone flat.

“I do have some bad news, Tendo-san,” the member of staff said in a professional voice. Nabiki looked at the woman’s nametag. Akemi. “Unfortunately, we don’t have a replacement room for you.”

“You don’t?” Nabiki crossed her arms.

Akemi shook her head. “There’s a huge convention going on. The only room that was open was the one directly below you. And that’s flooded too.”

“Well, it’s no problem,” Ryoga said. “You two can bunk with Ranma and Akane. The couch in their room folds out.”

“Absolutely not,” Ranma said, putting his arm around Akane’s shoulders. ”We are planning on having a lot of very loud sex.”

“Ranma!” Akane blushed and elbowed him in the stomach. 

“They can stay with us,” said Ryoichi. “There’s two beds in each bedroom.”

“It’ll have to be with the twins, though,” said Akane. “Rantaro and Ryoichi are too tall to share a bed.”

“I wouldn’t share a bed with that guy anyway,” Rantaro grumbled and crossed his arms. 

“I guess—” Nabiki let out the biggest exhale of her life. “I guess we have no choice, huh?”

“Slumber party!” Mitsuko and Keiko cried in unison.

“I dunno, babe,” Blaine said to Nabiki. “Alone? With kids?”

“They really are good kids,” said Nabiki. She smiled and placed one hand flat on her chest. “And I’m their favorite aunt. I’m sure it will be just fine.”

Ryoichi grinned and raised one finger in the air. “Smash cut to—”

* * *

“To what?”

“Huh?” Ryoichi looked over at his father.

“You just said ‘smash cut to’ and then stopped talking. Smash cut to what?” Ranma asked, waving his arm in front of him.

Ryoichi clenched his jaw in frustration. “It’s a setup for later, Dad—”

“A setup for what?”

“I don’t know! Something funny! Stop ruining my joke!”

“How can I ruin your joke when I’m the funny one?”

“He’s not,” Ryoga said to Rantaro.

“Can it!” Ranma shouted. 

“I’m really tired,” Nabiki said. “Maybe we can all just turn in?”

“Sounds good, babe,” Blaine said, putting an arm around her shoulders. 

“Here we go again,” said Ryoichi, re-plastering the grin on his face. “Smash cut to—”

* * *

“AAAH! HA! YAH!”

Mitsuko and Keiko stood on top of Mitsuko’s bed, slamming pillows into each other’s faces as hard as they could. Yelping with pain and fury, occasionally jumping down to the floor and chasing each other around the room. 

Nabiki and Blaine were sitting upright in what was once Keiko’s bed, their legs under the covers, both staring blankly ahead.

“It’s late,” said Blaine. “Shouldn’t they be tired? Don’t kids tire themselves out?”

“Akane gives them so much tea, their blood is probably half caffeine,” Nabiki replied, clutching her forehead. 

“Hey!” Keiko paused in her running and put one hand on her hip, holding the corner of a pillow with her other hand. “I haven’t had tea for a whole day! I’m just like this!”

“Same!” Mitsuko shouted and hit her sister in the back of the head with a pillow. The two girls continued to chase each other around the room, scrambling over both beds, Mitsuko slamming into Blaine’s stomach with her knee as she bounced after her sister. 

Blaine clutched his abdomen and grimaced. “Children just have the sharpest little joints, don’t they?”

Nabiki gave him a sympathetic smile. “They are very adventurous kids.”

Blaine sighed and leaned forward, crawling on the bed until his elbows rested on the edge, his hands hanging over the end. “Hey, kids, what can I give you to get you to go to bed already?”

Mitsuko immediately stopped and stood still, holding her pillow. “Five thousand yen.”

“Five thousand?!” Blaine frowned and closed his eyes, inhaling. He let the breath out and opened his eyes. “Sorry, I don’t have that much cash.”

“That’s okay,” said Mitsuko, pulling out her phone. “I have a Venmo.”

Blaine wrinkled his nose and behind him, Nabiki put a hand over her mouth to hide her grin.

That kid was kind of a genius.


	18. Saturday

_ Saturday _

“Thank you!”

Ranma beamed up at the bartender and slapped down a two thousand yen bill, telling him to keep the change. There were a series of open air bars and straw huts that served as bars lining the edges of the pool area of the resort, and there were several swimming pools on different levels. This was his third Malibu Oasis of the day, a bright blue drink that came in a fishbowl with two straws. He was able to hold it in one hand easily, even as a girl, as he leaned on his cane to head to the poolside chair Akane was sitting on. He had draped one of his Hawaiian shirts over his one piece bathing suit, leaving the buttons open. He and the kids had gone swimming this morning before he started drinking and he didn’t see the point in changing back into a guy. 

“Check it out, Akane,” Ranma said, taking a seat next to her on the chair and hooking his cane on the back. “Two straws, so I can drink it super fast.”

“I don’t think that’s why there’s two straws,” Akane said, smirking. She was also wearing a one piece, although Ranma had tried to convince her to wear the bikini she had brought. Maybe after a couple more days of drinking she would feel brave enough. 

Nabiki lounged in the chair next to them, head back, sunglasses on. “And you didn’t bring your wife anything to drink? Chivalry is truly dead.”

“Akane’s got two good legs, she can get her own drink,” Ranma said, slurping up his cocktail through both straws. 

“What can I say?” said Akane. “I married a real gentleman.”

Ranma burped. 

Blaine walked up, handing Nabiki a whiskey before kissing her on the cheek as she sat up.

“I’m gonna hop in the pool, babe,” he said. “Wanna join me?”

Akane met Ranma’s eyes as he mockingly mouthed the word “babe” over his drink.

“No thanks, after last night, I’ve had enough of getting wet,” Nabiki replied. 

“Your loss.” 

Blaine pulled off his shirt, revealing cut, extremely lean and tan muscles. He gave Nabiki, Akane, and Ranma a wink and then jumped into the deep end of the pool.

“Not bad, is he?” asked Nabiki, taking a sip of her whiskey.

“He’s okay,” muttered Akane. There weren't very many men she had ever really found attractive besides Ranma. 

“I think that’s better, though,” Ranma said, squinting one eye tipsily and nodding his head past Nabiki’s back, towards the other end of the pool.

One Ryoga Hibiki was emerging from the water, pulling himself up on the pool ladder. His immense biceps bulged as he flexed, droplets of water flying as he tossed his head back, shaking out his hair. He stood up on the pool deck and grabbed a towel from a nearby chair and walked over to them, grinning as he rubbed his damp head.

His chest was broad as a barrel. His pectorals sharp, rippling. The muscles of his ribcage curving into his abdominals with clear definition. Said abdominals dipped into a v shape right above the waistband of his swim trunks. He looked rugged. Strong. Powerful.

“He didn’t change?” Akane whispered to Ranma.

“Gave him some waterproof soap,” he replied back, slurping more of his drink.

Nabiki’s mouth was literally hanging open as Ryoga reached them.

“Hey guys,” he said, flashing white teeth through his beard. “How’s it going?”

“Great,” said Ranma, grinning before letting out another small burp. “This place rules.”

Ryoga laughed. “Glad to hear it. Nabiki, are you having fun?”

“Uh-huh,” was all she could say, her jaw still hanging loose. 

“Cool,” said Ryoga. “Well, I actually have to go sign some paperwork. Contractors or something. I’ll see you guys later.”

He walked away, whistling, towel around his neck.

Nabiki sat up from her chair and turned around, watching him go for a long while. Eventually, she turned back around to face Ranma and Akane. Took off her sunglasses, resting them on the table. 

“Excuse me,” she said. She pointed with one finger towards the water. “I need to—get in the pool.”

She jumped in with a big splash.

“Well,” said Akane, tilting her head to the side. “Ryoga did look pretty good.”

“Yeah he did,” said Ranma, slurping up more of his drink. “Really good."

“Ranma?!”

“Oh, oh what?” He spread his arms wide, the glass bowl threatening to topple out of his hand. “You’re allowed to be bisexual, but I’m not?!”

“Are you bisexual?!” asked Akane.

“I’m drunk,” he replied. “Same same.”

“Ranma, that is so offensive—”

“I can’t be offensive, Akane,” Ranma said, squinting his eyes up at her. “I have a bisexual wife, a gay son, and a transgender daughter. And I, myself, am genderfluid, a word I learned from TikTok. So, there. I’m not a boomer.”

“Okay,” Akane said, taking away the bowl. “No more alcohol today.”

“Oh, what, just cause I thought Ryoga looked good? This is discrimination!”

“He did look good,” mused Akane, taking a tiny sip of Ranma’s drink. “Really good.”

“Right?” asked Ranma. 

They made eye contact. Held it for a moment.

“You know,” he said, “We could—”

“We could—”

They both paused. Broke into awkward smiles.

“No, that would be crazy, right?”

“Yeah,” said Akane. “Soooo crazy.”

Ranma tilted his head. “But we could—”

“Hey!”

They turned around to see Keiko standing a few feet behind them, in her swimsuit and glaring ferociously.

“We’re supposed to be parent trapping Uncle Ryoga and Aunt Nabiki, you weirdos!”

“Man, kids are no fun,” Ranma muttered.

“Yeah, total buzzkills,” Akane agreed, drinking more of the Malibu Oasis. “You know, this is pretty good actually.”

“I know, we should order two more.”

“Ooh, I love that idea—”

“UGH!” Keiko yelled, stamping her foot. “You two are out of the plan!”

“I never wanted to be in the plan!” Ranma shouted back.

“Sweetie, I still support the plan,” Akane said. “I just have some grown up stuff I want to do.”

“Oh? And what might that be?” Ranma asked, grinning.

Akane grinned back. “Well—”

“UGH!” Keiko yelled again. “I’m done! You’re out of the plan!”

She pivoted on her heel and stomped away, crossing her arms furiously.

Akane looked back at Ranma. Pointed at the fishbowl. “So, two more?”

“Oh, yeah.”

* * *

Nabiki pulled on a top and a pair of pink denim shorts before adjusting her hair in the mirror. Her entire day had been nuts, and she kept questioning why she had even come here. First of all, when the hell did Ryoga get that jacked? His physique didn’t even seem possible. Although it suited him. It definitely suited him. 

And then she somehow kept losing track of Blaine. Whenever she turned around, he was being pulled away by Ranma for “bonding” or by Ryoichi and Rantaro for making one of their dance videos or whatever. Also Akane had been acting extremely smug ever since they had arrived and Nabiki had discovered Ryoga was the owner of this place. Smug Akane was even more insufferable than normal Akane. 

After they had finally gone to sleep and then woken up in the morning, the twins had scurried away, although it seemed like they kept popping in and out of the edges of her vision, as if they were ghosts in the first half of a horror movie. She knew they were all up to something. The parent trap. They really thought it was going to work, didn’t they? 

Setting her jaw, she walked out of the bathroom and into the living area of the suite. No one was around. She sighed. Blaine was supposed to meet her here before Mamoru’s show. He could be anywhere. She picked up her phone from the table next to the couch, sliding her finger up the screen. Once the text message screen to Blaine was open, she hesitated. 

Shut her phone screen off and put it in her pocket.

Well, it’s not like she wanted the parent trap to work or anything. She was just trying to save him from having to sit through the sour wail Mamoru called a singing voice. 

That was it.

That was all.

Really.

And it absolutively had nothing to do with Ryoga Hibiki.

* * *

“I’m really glad we’re getting to know each other, Blaine,” Ranma said, squinting one eye as he and Blaine sat at an outdoor dining table not too far from the pool. Night had fallen, but there were still plenty of resort guests bustling around, though none too near the pair of men. Or one man, and one man who currently looked like a girl. “We’re gonna be brothers soon.”

Blaine took a thoughtful sip of his wine spritzer. “I suppose that’s true.”

“And you know how important family is to Nabiki!” Ranma threw his arms out wide. He had downed a lot more alcohol since lunchtime and was definitely feeling it. 

Blaine nodded. “She did put up with your parents for quite a while, I’ve heard.”

“Oh yeah,” said Ranma. “Nabiki loves my mom, you know? _Loves_ her.”

“Speaking of Nabiki, I’m supposed to meet her for Mamoru’s show—”

“No no no no no,” Ranma said, firmly grabbing Blaine’s wrist to keep him in his chair. “You don’t wanna go to that! Mamoru is terrible! He’s so bad!”

“Is he?” Blaine settled back in his chair. “Maybe I should skip it, then.”

“You’re making the right choice,” Ranma said, nodding, his head dipping forward a little too far with the motion. “And ‘sides, I’m not so scary, am I? I mean, it’s not like I ever killed anybody or anything.”

Ranma held his stomach and laughed loudly, and Blaine emitted a nervous chuckle. 

“Well, except for that one guy,” Ranma said, tilting his head.

“What?!”

“I mean, he was immortal,” said Ranma, slurping his drink. “I killed him and then he came right back to life as some fat baby. You know?”

“I do not know—”

“It’s not like I knew he was gonna come back, you know? I just killed him, but he’s still alive, so technically, I’m not a murderer.”

Ranma smiled and leaned back in his seat, still drinking.

Blaine clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Huh.”

“Now, Akane,” said Ranma, sloppily waving a hand as he laughed. “She just straight up killed a dude, y’know?”

“Uh—”

“She just—” Ranma mimed a cutting motion with his hand across his neck, laughing again. “Unfortunately, I did not get to see it. I bet she looked hot, though.”

“Are you—” Blaine tilted his head and pursed his lips. “Are you implying that you and Akane might murder me?”

“I think I just established that I am not a murderer,” said Ranma, his vision starting to blur. “But Akane might, though, yeah. So watch out for that!”

Following a truly tremendous belch, Ranma laughed again, loudly. Blaine grimaced and wondered if he should attend Mamoru’s show after all.

* * *

“Nabiki!”

Immediately upon stepping into the cafe, Nabiki had been pulled into an embrace by a short, plump woman with a mass of curly hair.

“Ami,” Nabiki replied with a calm smile, returning the hug. “Long time no see.”

Her old bandmate pulled back, leaving her hands on Nabiki’s upper arms, and gave her a wide grin. Time had been kind to Ami. Her eyes were bright, her features refined, her curls still thick but free of frizz. “This is so amazing! I can’t believe we’re all together again!”

“Mmm,” murmured Nabiki. “It sure is a crazy matter of happenstance, isn’t it?”

“It sure is!” Ami responded genuinely. “You know, I’m drumming for Mamoru tonight. I bet you can talk him out of singing and into just playing guitar if you volunteered your voice—”

“No thanks,” said Nabiki. “Occasional drunken karaoke only for me these days.”

“That’s a shame,” Ami said with a sigh. “He’s still extremely bad.”

“And yet there appears to be a full house,” Nabiki replied, looking around at the crowded cafe. Mamoru was already on stage, tuning his guitar softly. 

“I’m sure they’ll clear out once he starts singing,” Ami said, laughing. “But I do believe they saved a seat for you in the back.”

She nodded her head over Nabiki’s shoulder. Nabiki turned around to see Ryoga sitting at a table in the back of the cafe, smiling and holding one hand up in greeting. There were already two bottles of beer sitting in front of him in preparation. Nabiki bit her lip and closed her eyes, shaking her head.

“And I gotta say,” Ami continued. “He is looking better than ever.”

“Is he?” Nabiki asked flatly. But she left Ami without another word, striding over to the table that had a seat waiting for her.

“Ryoga.”

“Nabiki.”

“I know what you’re up to, you know,” she said, hopping up on the tall chair and leaning her elbows on the table.

He raised one thick eyebrow curiously. “Is that so?”

“I’ve seen The Parent Trap,” she said, taking a swig of the open beer. “This is what you considered our first date, huh?”

“Sure,” he replied. “We had a drink, made conversation, saw a show. Sounds like a date to me.”

“Well, I guess we did talk about your parents, that’s date material,” Nabiki said, resting her fingertips on the neck of her beer bottle. “How are they, by the way?”

The smile suddenly dropped from Ryoga’s face. He turned away and she saw something she had never seen in his eyes before. Grief.

“My mom died two years ago,” he said softly.

“I—I’m sorry,” Nabiki said, stunned. She knew the sharp, keen pain of losing a parent. Both of them. “I didn’t know.”

He shook his head. Attempted a smile. “That’s all right. How could you?”

“I know I only met her a couple of times, but she was a nice lady,” Nabiki said. “I liked her a lot.”

He looked up, his smile a little bigger. “She liked you too.”

“That’s unusual,” she replied, not meeting his eyes as she drank from her beer again.

“Nah,” he said, trying to brighten his tone. “Everybody likes you.”

“Well now you’re just lying,” she said, setting the bottle back on the table. 

“Are you kidding?” Ryoga asked. “I heard you’re the twins’ favorite aunt. And their other aunt is Kasumi, so—”

Nabiki laughed, although she didn’t want to. She felt like she was twenty years old again. Ah, damn. Ryoga with his stupid beard and his stupid muscles and his stupid money and his stupid jokes and his stupid plan! She was too old for this. 

“You’re way more charming than you used to be, Hibiki,” she said with a tilt of her head.

“Only around you,” he replied. “Otherwise I’m a total mess.”

She nodded. “Now that, I do believe.”

“Welcome everybody! Are you having a good night?” Mamoru’s voice boomed through the microphone as he settled onto a stool on stage. A scattered series of cheers and applause erupted from the audience, including from Nabiki, who clapped just as hard for him now as she did decades ago. Ami was seated behind him, the drum kit in front of her, with an expression of pure bemusement. 

“My name is Mamoru, and I have a bunch of new music lined up for you guys. Hope you like it as much as I do.”

“We will not,” Ryoga said quietly to Nabiki. She tried to hide her smirk by drinking from her beer. 

Mamoru began to play as Ami started to back him up on the drums. His guitar playing had improved, and he had already been a very talented guitarist. His fingers moved deftly up and down the neck of the instrument as the introduction to the song swelled, eliciting a few more _whoo_ ’s from the crowd.

And then he began to sing.

All Ryoga and Nabiki could do was watch and listen, their faces frozen in identical expressions.

“He’s _worse_ ,” Nabiki said.

“He’s way worse,” Ryoga agreed.

“How can he be worse?!” she asked in horror. “It’s been decades.”

Ryoga merely shook his head, unable to find an explanation. 

On stage, Ami increased the volume of her drumming, attempting to temper the sound of the caterwauling that was Mamoru’s singing voice. It didn’t work very well, and several of the patrons started grumbling and leaving the cafe altogether. 

Mamoru finally, finally, finished his first song and beamed out at the audience. Nabiki clapped and cheered again, having finished her beer. It surprised her to hear Ryoga clap too, and she peered at him out of the corner of her eye. He was looking right at her, grinning.

Nabiki brought her gaze forward again, praying she wasn't blushing. Although her face did feel hot.

Oh no.

Mamoru only grew more confident as the night wore on, belting out his last number with astounding confidence. Ryoga had remained surprisingly quiet throughout much of the show and Nabiki hated that it made her feel concerned about him. 

“You okay?” she asked with an attempt at a casual tone. 

Ryoga looked over at her, surprised. He smiled, but she knew him well enough to see the sadness behind it. “Never better."

“Thank you!” Mamoru took his bows in front of the few remaining, stone-faced, members of the crowd. Nabiki and Ryoga clapped for him again. They watched as Mamoru and Ami set aside their equipment before leaving the stage and walking over to their table. 

“So? Did you enjoy the show?” Mamoru asked, leaning his arms on the tabletop. 

“Oh, I absolutely did,” Nabiki replied honestly. “You haven’t changed a bit, Mamo-chan.”

Mamoru gave her a grin of blinding white teeth. “I’m still that bad, huh?”

Nabiki threw her head back in laughter, Ami giggling along with her. 

“I had fun playing again,” said Ami. “Drives my husband and kids crazy at home.”

“They’re idiots then,” said Nabiki, smiling. “You sounded great.”

“Sounds like you’re ready to rejoin the band,” said Marmoru.

“Absolutely not,” Nabiki replied, although her smile remained. “Nice try, though.”

“Excuse me,” said Ryoga, Smiling politely, he scooted his chair back from the table and stood up, smoothing the front of his shirt. “I actually have a ton of paperwork to get through.”

“Paperwork?” asked Nabiki. “Really?”

“What can I say?” Lifting up one shoulder in a half shrug, he turned to leave. “I’m an adult now.”

The former bandmates watched him go, walking out of the front door of the cafe and into the night. An inexplicable feeling of guilt rose up in Nabiki’s chest that she quickly shoved back down. She hadn’t done anything wrong.

Had she?

* * *

Ranma finally freed Blaine from his company, allowing him to run off to find Nabiki, or take a bunch of selfies in front of the ornamental light display in the resort’s garden area, or go night swimming and get eaten by a shark, who the hell cared. Although he had stopped drinking nearly an hour ago, Ranma was still feeling pretty sloshed. It had been the kids’ idea for him to distract Blaine, and it had honestly been pretty funny to watch that guy shake a little bit with fear when he implied Akane was capable of murder. 

Well, not implied. Just straight out said it.

Ranma stood up from the table he had remained sitting at and pulled the bottom of his bathing suit down, readjusting it. With all the alcohol pumping through him, he barely felt any pain in his leg. He could probably do with a walk before bed, work off some of his drunkenness before trying to hit on Akane. She would definitely turn him down if he was too intoxicated. 

Picking up his cane, he began to stroll leisurely down the concrete walkway, heading towards the outer border of the resort, planning on circling the main building. As he neared the end of one of the pools, he recognized a tall, very wide figure staring up at the moon.

“Ryoga!”

Ranma smiled and continued over to his old friend. Ryoga, hands in his pockets, looked over his shoulder and smiled. 

“Ranma,” Ryoga said genially. And as Ranma caught up to him, rotated to face him. “How did things go distracting Blaine?”

“Pretty good. Think I put the fear of god into him. How about you? How did things go at the show?”

“As well as it could have gone, I guess,” Ryoga said, but his eyes were wandering, searching for something in the dark. 

“What’s wrong, bud?”

Ryoga let out a sigh and turned to look up at the stars. “Is it right? You know? To try and relive the past like this?”

“Sure,” said Ranma, following his gaze and turning his own face upwards. “Why not?”

“We’ve all changed, Ranma. A lot.”

“Sure,” Ranma repeated. “We’ve gotten better.”

Ryoga raised his eyebrows, although he kept looking at the sky. “You think so?”

“Look at it this way,” Ranma said. “You drink whiskey, now, right? Like some rich guy.”

“I do,” said Ryoga, a smile playing at the edges of his mouth. 

“And they gotta age whiskey to make it taste good, right?”

“Most of the time.”

“But if you think about it,” said Ranma, tapping his temple with one finger. “The same ingredients go into the barrel in the beginning that come out of it in the end. They’re just better, after all that time.”

“You know Ranma,” said Ryoga. “You may actually have a good point.”

“Of course I do,” said Ranma with a crooked grin. “You would think after all this time, you would have learned that I’m always right.”

* * *

“Sorry I missed the show,” Blaine said to Nabiki as they both climbed into bed. Keiko and Mitsuko were in their bed, arguing loudly over Mitsuko’s Switch. “How was it?”

“Terrible,” said Nabiki, smiling as she rubbed lotion on her hands. “I had a great time.”

Blaine’s thin eyebrows knitted together. “I don’t understand.”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have skipped out,” said Nabiki. 

Before Blaine could respond, an errant Joy-con struck him in the side of the head.

“Those are expensive!” Mitsuko shrieked at her sister. 

Blaine tossed the Joy-con back over to their bed and grimaced at the twins. “I thought you two would be quiet by now. I already sent you five thousand yen.”

“Tonight’s price is six thousand yen,” Mitsuko replied, trying to reattach the Joy-con to her console. “More if Keiko broke my controller.”

Blaine gritted his teeth and grumbled as he pulled out his phone to send them more money. Once the girls quieted down, he turned his attention back to Nabiki.

She was on her side, back to him, already asleep. 


	19. Sunday

_ Sunday _

“You should wear the bikini.”

Ranma grinned up at his wife from the bed in their hotel room. Akane dug through her suitcase as she prepared to get dressed for the day. After fooling around with Akane the night before, he had taken a nice hot shower and was currently in his male form as he lounged against the multiple pillows. 

“I’m too old for a bikini,” Akane said with a sigh, pulling out a white dress cover-up.

“Nabiki wore a bikini yesterday, and I’m sure she will again today.”

“She doesn’t have stretch marks,” Akane grumbled.

“Come on, Akane,” Ranma said, sitting up somewhat. “You’re in amazing shape.”

She smiled. “I know you think so.”

“Oh, I definitely do.” His grin grew bigger, showing his teeth. “And besides, aren’t you just going to lay on the beach all day? Get a nice tan.”

“Tanning is dangerous, Ranma,” said Akane. “But I brought sunscreen, so I should be fine.”

“Why did you even bring a bikini then?”

“Wishful thinking, I guess,” she replied, sitting on the bed as she let out a deep breath. He moved forward and started rubbing her shoulders. “Do you really think I’m in that good of shape?”

He kissed the back of her neck. “Of course I do.”

“Well, maybe I will wear it,” she mused. “Under the cover-up, though.”

“Coward.”

She giggled. “And what exactly are you wearing today? A women’s suit or trunks?”

“Regular shorts and shirt! I’m going golfing with Blaine.”

“Golfing?” Akane raised her eyebrows and turned around to face him. “Really?”

“Well he’s going to golf, I’m going to sit in the cart and get drunk and clown on him the whole time,” replied Ranma. 

Akane nodded. “Now that sounds more like you.”

* * *

Akane slathered another thick layer of sunblock on as a member of staff brought her the third pina colada of the day. She and Nabiki were sharing a blanket on the beach, the bright sun overhead beaming out of a cloudless sky. 

“Thank you,” Akane said as the server departed with a slight bow. She brought the cup to her mouth and delicately sipped the drink through a straw. Smacking her lips, she murmured, “Delicious.”

“You’ve said that literally every single time you’ve taken a sip of your drink,” Nabiki said, flipping through a magazine, sunglasses over her eyes. As Ranma had predicted, she was wearing a bikini, sporty and black and very revealing.

Akane frowned and pushed her regular glasses up her nose. “Well, they are good.”

Nabiki smirked but didn’t reply. Akane rolled her eyes and sipped her drink some more, looking around the beach. It wasn’t very crowded, the large stretch of sand leading down to the water from their spot being completely empty. Although she had finally learned how to swim right after the kids were born, she still didn’t care for going out too deep. 

With a sigh, she set her cup in the sand and laid down on her back, closing her eyes against the sun. Sometimes, it was hard for her to get warm, but right now the direct sunlight was doing wonders for that issue. She was still wearing the flowy white dress coverup over her own swimsuit, wondering why she felt so shy about it. Nabiki was as confident as ever, not even bothering to wrap a towel around her waist the last time she came out of the water. 

Akane tilted her head back and opened her eyes. There was a boardwalk at the top of the beach, bordering the boundary of the resort. Up on the wooden platform, she could see Ryoga standing with Akemi, the two of them making conversation with a gaggle of women in bathing suits who seemed to be guests. 

Akane sat up and turned around, her back to the water. She picked up her drink and sipped at it again, her eyes narrowing as an idea began to form. 

“Look, there’s Ryoga-kun,” she said. 

Nabiki casually looked over her shoulder. “So it is.”

“And Akemi-san. You know, I found out she’s actually the manager? She runs this place when Ryoga’s not here. But when he is here, she pretty much never leaves his side.”

“Is that so?” Nabiki asked coolly.

“Mmm, and look at all those girls he’s talking to! I bet he gets that a lot.”

“Probably,” Nabiki replied. The women Ryoga was talking to did seem to be pretty enraptured, hiding their mouths as they giggled, twirling the ends of their hair. At one point, Akemi rested her hand on Ryoga’s forearm and said something that made him laugh. Nabiki turned back to her magazine. 

Akane peered at her sister closely. “You’re not jealous, are you?”

“Why would I be jealous?” Nabiki asked, without looking up. She sharply flipped to the next page.

Akane took a long sip of her pina colada, a smirk crossing her own face. Using two fingers, she lifted her straw up and down in the icy drink, mixing it around.

“You know he saw me with my shirt off.”

“What?” This got Nabiki’s attention. She turned to Akane and lifted her sunglasses to the top of her head, her eyes huge. 

“Oh yeah,” said Akane nonchalantly. “I was flashing Ranma and Ryoga-kun walked in. And I wasn’t wearing a bra, so he got the full show.”

Akane gestured down to her body with one hand, grinning.

Nabiki wrinkled her nose, glaring at Akane, and then turned back to her magazine yet again.

“I don’t care.”

“You don’t?”

“Nope,” said Nabiki. “Why the hell would I care if Ryoga saw my little sister’s breasts?”

She kept her focus forward, but Akane noticed how tight her sister’s grip was on the edges of the magazine. A wicked smile crossed Akane’s face as she took another long drink from her cocktail and then set it in the sand. She turned to face the boardwalk again and lifted herself up on her knees, her back straight, and raised her hand high above her head.

Smiling, she called out loudly in her cutest voice, “Ryoga-kuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuun!”

Ryoga looked up and gave her a curious wave. Ignoring Nabiki’s sideways glare, Akane gestured for him to come closer. 

“Ryoga-kun! Are you busy? Please come here!”

He said something to Akemi and gave her a quick nod before jogging down from the boardwalk and over the sand to the blanket on the beach. Akane hopped up to her feet in one smooth motion, putting her hands behind her back and smiling coquettishly. 

“What’s up, Akane-san?” He asked once he reached her.

“Oh, please,” she said, making sure her voice was still adorable as she stepped up closer to him, their chests nearly touching. “I told you to call me Akane. Or if you’d like, Akane-chan.”

“Akane—” He scrunched up his nose in confusion. “Chan?”

“Exactly,” she giggled. She could almost feel Nabiki fuming silently on the ground next to her. “Anyway, I was wondering, would you have a little sparring match with me?”

“A sparring match?” Ryoga asked, scratching his chin. “I dunno—”

“Oh, please, Ryoga-kun! There’s plenty of room, right here on the beach,” Akane said. She reached down and grabbed one of his huge hands in her two small ones and lifted it up to chest height. “And I never get to fight someone as big and strong as you are!”

Nabiki rolled her eyes, which Ryoga didn’t see and Akane ignored. 

“Uh—” Ryoga wrinkled his eyebrows. “All right.”

“Hooray!” Akane dropped his hand but then began pulling at the bottom of his polo. “Now, you don’t want to get your work shirt all sweaty—”

“I don’t, no,” he replied as she lifted the fabric up over his head. He was too tall for her to pull it all the way off, so he ended up finishing the motion. Now bare-chested, he leaned down and took off his sandals as well, so he was only in his shorts. 

“Great!” Akane beamed. “Let’s begin.”

Akane led him down closer to the water, making sure they were in front of Nabiki, who was openly glowering by this point. She and Ryoga stepped back so they were a few feet away from each other, adopting ready stances. Ryoga’s had changed, although not by much. His center of gravity was still low to the ground, both knees bent. Akane had narrowed her own opening stance, keeping only one knee slightly bent to allow for quick adaptation when facing an opponent. She could also tell Ryoga was already holding back, no doubt because he perceived her as weaker. 

He was probably right, on a purely physical level. And he was nearly a foot taller. It would be a tough fight. That is, if she had actually been trying to fight. 

Akane dashed forward, quickly, throwing a punch. Ryoga blocked it, and she grabbed hold of his forearm and pulled it out to his side, running her fingers up and down his bare arm.

“Ryoga-kun, your physique is really incredible,” she said, holding his arm against her chest. Caressing the outline of his muscles, she asked, “How did you manage this?’

“I, um, eat a lot of protein?” he responded, clearly bewildered. 

“I have to say,” Akane said, pulling away, letting her fingertips linger on his wrist for a moment. “It’s really working for you.”

“Uh—”

Ryoga didn’t have much longer to respond, as Akane kicked him in the stomach, causing him to double over. He attempted to grab at her legs, but she jumped up, high, over his head. He looked up as she reached the crest of her jump, and she spread out her legs for a kick, no doubt giving him a good view of her bikini bottoms. She landed behind him, in a handstand, and kicked backwards with both feet, hitting him in the small of his back. He flopped forward into the sand, but speedily rolled over and stood up in an instant, a look of determination now on his face. 

Akane grinned, her glasses glinting in the sun. Nice to see she could still get Ryoga riled up. 

It was his turn to advance, running at her, one massive arm tossed forward into a punch. Akane dodged, grabbing his arm again. He was prepared this time and simply flexed his elbow, lifting her off her feet. She somersaulted over his bicep and wrapped her legs around his neck, releasing his arm and rotating her body around, throwing him off balance. He staggered and as he fell, his back hitting the sand, she rotated herself once more so she landed on top of him, straddling his waist. 

Ryoga looked up at her, stunned, his hands spread out to the side. Akane smiled and leaned over, scooting up his body so she could look him in the eye. 

“That was so much fun, Ryoga-kun! Thank you!”

And then she leaned down and kissed him, right on the tip of his nose. 

Ryoga remained unmoving as Akane stood up, giggling, wiping sand off of her front. Humming to herself, she rejoined Nabiki on the blanket, picking up her pina colada.

“That was a pretty good workout,” Akane said with a smile.

“Was it?” Nabiki asked, not looking at her. 

“Mmm,” Akane nodded, taking a sip of her drink. “You’re not jealous, are you?”

“Of course I’m not jealous. Why would you think that?”

“I dunno,” said Akane. “Maybe you should ask your magazine.”

Nabiki looked down and instead of a magazine, she had a lapful of brightly colored shredded paper. Frowning, she looked back up at Ryoga, still laying on the sand. Why wasn’t he getting up? Why was he so slack-jawed? And most importantly, why was he blushing?!

With a huff, Nabiki stood up and threw the paper scraps onto Akane before gathering her things and storming away up the beach. Akane carefully gathered up the pieces of paper and stuck them into her own bag to throw away later. 

With a satisfied sigh, she pulled her coverup dress over her head before leaning back in her bikini to soak up the sun.

* * *

“I’m glad you came with me,” Blaine said, slinging a bag of golf clubs over his shoulder. “Nabiki hates golfing.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Ranma said, holding a fishbowl with two straws that was filled with a bright blue cocktail. They were waiting for an attendant to pull up with their cart. “I literally had no other plans.”

“Dad! Dad! Dad! Dad!” A pair of voices rang out from behind the two men. Ranma turned to see his twin daughters run up, bouncing up and down as they reached him.

“Oh? What’s up with you two?”

“We wanna come with you!” Mitsuko said. 

Blaine grimaced. “Golf is kinda boring for kids—”

“No way,” said Keiko. “We watch golf at home all the time!”

“You do?” Blaine raised one eyebrow.

“Absolutely!”

Ranma rubbed his mouth, trying to hide a smile. They absolutely did not. He pretended to be reluctant.

“I dunno, guys—”

“Golf! Golf! Golf! Golf! Golf! Golf!”

They were chanting again, both of them throwing up their hands rhythmically. 

“All right, all right,” said Ranma. “I guess it will be fun.”

Blaine frowned. “Are you sure? Golf is supposed to be relaxing.”

“They’ll be good,” said Ranma. “Won’t you, kids?”

Mitsuko and Keiko put on their best smiles, beaming up at their father and Blaine.

Blane opened his mouth to say something, but the golf cart finally appeared, the attendant hopping out of the driver’s seat and helping Blaine with his clubs. Mitsuko and Keiko climbed into the rear seat, which faced backwards, although they turned themselves forward, resting their arms on the back of the front seat. Ranma stuck his cane in with the clubs and climbed into the seat behind the steering wheel.

“Are you sure you’re okay to drive?” asked Blaine, tentatively sitting in the passenger seat. 

“Sure,” said Ranma. “Why not?”

“I’ve never seen you drive before,” Keiko said, pushing her glasses up her nose.

“Tokyo has excellent public transportation,” Ranma replied. “But I’ve driven a go-kart before. How different can this be?”

Keiko and Mitsuko turned around and held hands, clinging on to the metal frame of the golf cart. Ranma grinned over at Blaine, handing him the big blue fishbowl. 

“Don’t let that spill.”

With a _whrrr_ and a _thump_ , the golf cart sprung into motion. Ranma had quite a lead foot, mostly because he had little control or feeling in his right leg. Luckily the cart’s top speed was only twenty-five kilometers per hour, although the way Ranma drove, the passengers felt every bit of the low speed as they cruised across the course. 

“Is it really responsible—” Blaine asked as they went over a bump, the fishbowl splashing. “To drive after you’ve been drinking?”

“I just bought the drink, I haven’t started drinking it yet,” Ranma replied with a cheerful smile. “After I’m done, I’ll let the kids drive.”

“Yay!” the twins shouted from the back. 

Blaine clung onto the edge of the seat with one hand, terror stricken. Ranma laughed.

“Just kidding. I’ll be fine.” _Thump. Da-bump. Thrurrrmp._ “You have nothing to worry about.”

* * *

Nabiki crossed her arms as she rode up in the elevator back to the room, tapping her foot impatiently. Akane thought she was so cute, didn’t she? Insufferable. What did she think she had proved? That Ryoga was just as easy to manipulate as ever? Big whoop. Nabiki was engaged, to someone else, who was very rich and very handsome and had a good sense of direction. Ryoga could do whatever he wanted, including making moony eyes at her little sister. Didn’t affect Nabiki at all. 

Last night he had looked so sad, though, when he turned his back on her. And today he hadn’t even said anything to her before or after his sparring match with Akane. Well. Maybe he had finally decided to grow up. 

But that was kind of boring, wasn’t it?

The elevator dinged as it reached her floor, the doors sliding open. Nabiki sighed and readjusted the weight of her bag as she walked to the room she and Blaine were still sharing with the kids. It had been a pretty clever little trick, Nabiki had to admit. But right now everyone should be out, the room empty.

It wasn’t.

Nabiki opened the door to find a solitary figure standing in front of the couch, staring down at his phone, frowning. 

“Rantaro,” she said. “Everything all right?”

He looked up at her, still frowning. “I guess.”

She didn’t know him very well, but he was definitely a quiet kid. Probably got that from Ryoga. And he definitely had a very familiar expression on his face.

“You’re lost, huh?” Nabiki set her bag down on the floor.

“Yeah,” Rantaro said. “I don’t understand it. I was on my way to the garden with Ryoichi, and then next thing I know, I’m back here in the room.”

Nabiki shook her head. The kid would have had to go inside, up an elevator or stairs, and unlock a door to end up back here. The mysterious machinations of the Hibiki family’s directionlessness were impenetrable, but she wasn’t surprised. Rantaro looked so much like Ryoga at that age, although his hair was shorter, his face still sporting a layer of baby fat. And Nabiki had really and truly grown softer as she had aged, evidenced by how much she spoiled her nieces and nephews for every holiday and birthday, and that she regularly gave away part of her income to charity. Charity! What had abused animals ever done for her?

“Okay, kid,” she said with a sigh. “Let me change and I’ll take you over there.”

“Really?” he asked, his face brightening a little. 

“Sure,” she replied. “You’ll never find it on your own.”

* * *

The cart pulled around to the tee for the second hole of the course. Things had been uneventful at the first hole, the twins simply watching Blaine hit the ball in curious silence from their seats in the golf cart. Blaine had even hit under par, so he was off to a good start. Ranma’s driving had not improved, however, so as they reached the second tee, Blaine felt a little dizzy. He handed Ranma his drink and hopped out of the cart, a bit shaky on his feet. As he pulled a driver out of the bag, a dark shape slithered out as well and fell to the ground, causing him to scream. 

“A snake!” Blaine jumped two feet back, tripping and falling on his rear end.

Ranma gave his children a weary look over his shoulder. 

“A rubber snake, guys?” he asked in a low voice. “You need to step up your game.”

“It’s not rubber,” Mitsuko replied, whispering. 

The snake slithered closer to Blaine, poking its head up curiously. Blaine grimaced and screamed again, scooting backwards in the dirt. 

Ranma stumbled out of his seat, leaning on the cart for support. Hurried around the back and over to the side, where the snake was moving closer to Blaine. With a sigh, he leaned down and picked it up, bringing it to eye level to examine it. _Shimahebi_.

“Isn’t that dangerous?!” Blaine asked from his position on the ground.

Ranma squinted one eye. “What? It’s just a ratsnake. Totally harmless.”

He chucked it a few feet away, and the snake slithered off towards the wooded area lining the course. Ranma proffered his hand down to Blaine. The other man took it and climbed to his feet, still a little shaky. 

“Gotta be careful, bud,” said Ranma. “Snakes can get pretty much anywhere.”

Blaine nodded and released Ranma’s hand, patting down the front of his shirt. The twins gave him mirrored sympathetic looks as he sighed and moved to tee off. Ranma leaned over to his children once Blaine was out of earshot and gave them a long look. 

“That wasn’t nice to do, guys,” he said. 

The children averted their gaze and mumbled sorries.

“We won’t mess with Blaine anymore, Dad,” muttered Keiko.

“I don’t care about that,” said Ranma. “The snake could have gotten hurt!”

His daughters smiled.

“So then you’ll help us? With the next part?” Keiko asked eagerly. 

“Yeah, sure, why not?” Ranma leaned over and grabbed his drink from the front seat. “Golf is crazy boring. Let’s do it up.”

* * *

The ride down in the elevator with Rantaro was extremely quiet. It’s not as if Nabiki was an excessively talkative person, but most of her family was very loud, all the time. Even Ranma’s parents had engaged her in near constant conversation when they lived in New York. Which she liked fine, although sometimes all she wanted was to spend time alone. And Ryoga had been a fairly quiet guy too, although he and Nabiki had always been able to make discussion easily when they were together. 

Rantaro was different. The kid had definitely inherited his father’s somber aura and thoughtful disposition and it was like pulling teeth to get information out of him. Well, maybe she could work him up like she used to do to Ryoga. 

“So tell me, Rantaro-kun,” she said as the elevator reached the ground floor. The doors opened and she began to lead him through the lobby. “Are you part of this whole parent trap thing?”

“Not right now,” he replied, a neutral look on his face. He added nothing else. 

She sighed and held open the door leading to the outside, allowing him to walk through first before joining him at his side. 

“But other times? You are?”

He shrugged, said nothing.

Nabiki clenched her jaw. “You don’t even know me, Rantaro-kun. And you’re trying to get me back together with your dad?”

“Yeah.”

Another frustratingly short answer. “Why?”

He looked thoughtful as they walked along, headed towards the gardens. “Keiko had all these old pictures, of you and him. He looked happy. He never looks happy.”

Nabiki blinked. Ryoga was a depressed guy, always had been. But for his own son to say he never looks happy? Another pang of worry for him sparked in her chest. No. He was a grown man. Not her fault. “Well, nevertheless, did it ever occur to you that I don’t want to get back together with him?”

“No.”

Why could this kid not expand on his answers on his own? “And why not?”

“You looked happy too.”

This stunned Nabiki into silence as they continued their walk. She knew the pictures he was talking about. Akane, always insisting on bringing a camera, though she never invested in a professional one. All those disposable cameras, back when Nabiki and Ryoga were together. This kid just wanted his father to be happy. Those old photos had given him the idea, or given Keiko the idea, and he had gone along with it. Just so his dad could be happy. 

The worst part was, Rantaro was right. She had been happy, back then.

Really happy.

“Rantaro!”

Ryoichi was waving and jogging over to them from the entrance to the gardens. Nabiki looked up and saw that Rantaro’s expression had changed completely. He was smiling, his eyes bright. She knew Ryoichi’s good mood could be infectious, but this was something else. The two boys looked—

Happy.

“Hey, sorry I got lost,” Rantaro said.

“No problem, we’re on vacation time,” Ryoichi replied with a grin. “Thanks for bringing him, Aunt Nabiki.”

She smiled at her nephew, genuinely glad for the two of them. “No problem. Glad I could help.”

“You wanna be in our TikTok?” Ryoichi asked, pulling out his phone. 

“Oh, no way, I am not a dancer,” she said, laughing. “And I’m too old for that stuff anyway.”

“Suit yourself,” Ryoichi said, walking backwards toward the gardens, Rantaro close at hand. “But I think you’d be great.”

“Probably,” she replied. “But I’m going to take some me time.”

The boys grinned and gave her a parting wave and she waved back, trying to keep the wistfulness out of her expression. She did feel the need to be alone, at least for a little while. It was inevitable, that things would change when she moved back to Japan. Still, she hadn’t expected any of this.

But she probably should have.

* * *

“Hand me a tee, will you, Ranma?”

They were on the fifth hole, and Ranma was about halfway through his drink. Ranma retrieved a white golf tee from the box on the seat next to him and placed it in his flat palm. Using his other hand, he flicked it in Blaine’s direction with his forefinger, making a tiny “pew” sound.

The tee hit Blaine in the center of his forehead and bounced down into his hand. He pressed his lips into a thin line. “Thanks.”

“No prob, bud.” Ranma grinned.

Blaine turned and walked away a few feet, bending over to place the tee in the ground. He placed a golf ball on top and then straightened up, lowering the club from his shoulder. Taking a position next to the tee, he adjusted his hips and took aim. Reared back and swung.

_ Whff. _

The ball rolled off the tee and onto the grass, Blaine's club hitting only air.

"Kinda biffed it, huh, bud?" Ranma asked, leaning his arms on the steering wheel of the cart.

Blaine gave him a tight lipped smile and replied, "Must have been the wind."

"Musta been," Ranma said, picking up his drink.

Blaine reset the ball on the tee, but hadn't even fully straightened his back before it rolled off again. Frowning, he put the ball back, but had barely released his fingers when the ball toppled one more time. Breathing in sharply, Blaine put the ball in place, pausing before standing up. Lifted his golf club, and watched in frustration as the ball fell another time.

Grumbling, he bent over and picked up the ball and yanked the tee out of the ground to inspect it.

"Ranma," he said in a low tone, marching over to the golf cart. "The top of this tee is perfectly flat."

"Huh," said Ranma, clicking his tongue as he took it from him. "Must be a factory defect."

The twins were peering over the back seat with big, curious eyes. Blaine shot them a sharp look but bit his tongue before saying something. Ranma was currently a very tall, very muscular man who was also very protective of his children, and who had definitely murdered a guy, immortal baby or not.

"It's fine," Blaine said, forcing himself to smile. "Just hand me another one, please."

Ranma dug in the box, the wooden tees clacking around in the cardboard. "Here you go. This one looks good."

Blaine regarded the new tee carefully, making sure it was shaped properly with the tip of his finger. He gave Ranma a nod and returned to his tee off spot, easily setting the ball in place. Smiling, he put his club into position, rearing back into a swing.

_ PFFFFFFTSHHH. _

The force of Blaine's hit caused a loud cracking noise, and the ball exploded into a puff of smoke and sand. Covered in debris, Blaine stood still in shock for a moment, blinking.

"Whoo, nice swing!" Ranma cheered, slurping the last of his drink. "Raw power!"

Blaine slowly turned on one foot to face the cart. Ranma was smiling brightly, and the twins quickly ducked behind the seat, clearly giggling. There were thirteen more holes to go, he realized. With a huff, Blaine dropped his shoulders and walked back to the cart, climbing in the passenger seat.

"You know what? I'm done for the day."

"You sure bud?" Ranma asked. The kids would be a little disappointed, but they were adaptable. And they would probably consider it a victory they got Blaine to quit.

"Yeah," Blaine said, gripping onto the metal frame of the cart. "I'm sure."


	20. Monday

_ Monday _

“Waterslides!”

Ranma, in his female form, Hawaiian shirt open over his one piece suit, kicked open the door to the twins room with his good leg. The twins immediately bounded out of bed, instantly awake, shrieking, “Waterslides!”

Blaine groaned and blinked open one sleepy eye, Nabiki stirring next to him. 

“Ranma?” Blaine murmured, trying to clear his vision. “What time is it?’

“Five o’clock ayyy em!” Ranma responded, chipper. The girls scrambled past him, headed towards the bathroom to change into their bathing suits. “Me and the kids are gonna get breakfast and then hit the waterslides. Wanna come?”

Blaine squinted his one open eye. “No.”

“Suit yourself.”

Blaine let his head fall back on the pillow and the girls bounded back out of the bathroom, jumping in small circles around their father. “Waterslides! Waterslides! Waterslides!”

A loud thumping and a slam of another set of doors and Ryoichi was out of his room, already shirtless and in his swim trunks. 

“We doing waterslides?” he asked excitedly. 

“You know it, kiddo,” Ranma replied.

“Whoo!” Ryoichi hollered in a voice loud enough to cause Blaine’s eyes to shoot open again. “Rantaro! They _are_ doing waterslides!”

The other boy was a bit quieter, but appeared next to the group after a few moments, also in his trunks. “Nice, I can’t wait.”

Blaine stared up at the ceiling as they left, chanting “waterslides” over and over again very loudly. Was the sun even up? He and Nabiki rarely woke up before eleven. This was torture.

She rolled over and halfway opened one eye. “They gone?”

“I think so,” he said. “Your nieces are tiny nightmares.”

The night before, they had upped the price of going to bed to ten thousand yen and still took nearly an hour to settle down. And that was after the whole ordeal at the golf course, where they had faked innocence about the entire time. Blaine had said nothing, even as they sweetly, and smugly, smiled their way through dinner with the rest of the family. Ranma still scared him, even though by evening he was much drunker and ridiculously jovial.

“They’re good kids,” mumbled Nabiki with a sleepy smile. “They’re just high spirited.”

“It’s not just them,” Blaine said. “Why doesn’t your family like me?”

“They don’t like anybody,” Nabiki lied. They had a ton of friends. The kids were all charming and adorable, and Ranma and Akane had always been popular. Even though as they got older, the couple had become more introverted, often preferring the company of their own family over anyone else, but they still were polite and friendly and well connected.

“I dunno,” said Blaine. “They seem to like everyone else we meet.”

“They’re just judgmental.”

“Your aunt sure is. I knew she didn’t like me, but I was hoping the rest of your family would.”

“That’s kinda sweet,” Nabiki said, still not lifting her head from the pillow. 

Blaine tapped his chin. “I could really use your sister’s advice on how to improve my instagram.”

Nabiki rolled over and went back to sleep.

* * *

When lunchtime rolled around, Nabiki and Blaine finally managed to climb out of bed and head down to one of the restaurants on the ground floor of the resort. Nabiki stuffed herself with two meals worth of food, grateful that it was all free of charge. Once she was finished, she dropped her napkin on top of her plate and leaned back in her chair, satisfied. Blaine had barely touched his food, his attention remaining on his phone during and after the meal. 

“Yo! Blaine!” 

Ranma appeared as if from nowhere, still in a one piece swimsuit and Hawaiian shirt, and yanked over a chair from a neighboring table and plopped himself down. He slammed his cane on the tabletop and pulled over Blaine’s mostly untouched plate of food, helping himself. 

“Ranma,” Blaine said, attempting a friendly smile. “I thought you were at the waterslides.”

“I was, but there’s only so many times you can go down a waterslide, you know?” Ranma said, taking a bite of chicken. “But I came here to ask your advice.”

“Really? My advice?” Blaine raised his eyebrows. 

“Yeah,” said Ranma, spitting out a piece of chicken bone. “I had a great time driving around the course yesterday. So I decided. I wanna buy a car.”

“A car?” asked Nabiki. “What do you need a car for?”

“I’m an internationally famous baker, Nabiki,” Ranma retorted. “Famous bakers need cars.”

“Again, for what?” she asked.

“To carry around cakes!” Ranma replied in frustration. “Anyway, Blaine, you’re like a car guy. You wanna help me pick one out? There’s even some dealerships nearby, we could do test drives.”

“Do you even have a driver’s license?” Nabiki asked. 

“No,” Ranma replied, shaking his head with a smile. “Blaine, you in?”

“Sure, I love car shopping,” said Blaine. “And I could definitely get some good pictures out of it at the very least.” 

“Glad to hear it.” Ranma pushed away Blaine’s now empty plate and stood up, nearly bopping Blaine in the head with his cane as he picked it up. “Let’s go.”

“All right,” Blaine agreed genially. He turned to Nabiki. “Catch up with you later, babe?”

Nabiki nodded and gave him a tired wave. Blaine kissed her on top of the head and turned to leave with Ranma. 

“You know, I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Blaine said as they left the restaurant and walked into the sun. “When you’re a girl, do you ever, you know, play with your own breasts?”

“That is absurdly inappropriate to ask,” Ranma responded, lifting a cocktail off of a tray that a random passerby server was carrying. “But yes.”

Nabiki, remaining at the table, flagged down a waitress and properly ordered a scotch for herself. It wasn’t long before it arrived and she sipped it slowly, trying to savor the time alone.

“Nabiki!”

She turned around with a sigh, but smiled anyway when she saw who called her name.

“Ryoga.”

“Just the person I was looking for.” Ryoga grinned and took a seat in the empty chair next to Nabiki. 

“How lucky for you.”

“It is lucky,” Ryoga replied earnestly. “I need your help.”

Nabiki set her glass on the table and cast him a suspicious glance. “Is that so?”

“I promise it’s not part of the parent trap,” Ryoga said, putting his hands up, palms out. “I genuinely need your help.”

This piqued Nabiki’s curiosity, so despite her better judgment, she asked, “What is it?”

“I haven’t been here in a while,” Ryoga said, his grin fading. His thick eyebrows knit together, his face cast in worry. “And apparently, there’s a lot of stuff I’m supposed to have done as a business owner that I did not do. And I tried to get it all sorted out, but a lot of it is over my head, and it has to be done by the end of the day today. And I happen to know it’s your area of expertise, so if you could help me go through this paperwork—”

“Paperwork?” Nabiki asked. “What an extremely boring shenanigan.”

“I told you it wasn’t part of the parent trap,” Ryoga said, his voice strained. “I’m just an idiot.”

He wasn’t smiling. He looked miserable. Nabiki took a sip of her drink. “Why doesn’t Akemi help you? Isn’t she the manager?”

“It’s her day off, and she has too much on her plate already,” Ryoga replied. “She has to manage this place, not me and my stupidity.”

Nabiki swirled her drink around in its glass, trying not to look at Ryoga. He had always had a way of looking like a lost puppy, and not just in the literal sense. Avoiding his gaze, she said, “I dunno, I’m on vacation—”

“I’ll pay you.”

“Deal. Let’s go.”

* * *

“Now this one,” said Ranma, leaning on the hood of a car, placing his most recently mysteriously acquired cocktail on top. “This has gotta be the one.”

Blaine frowned. “The safety ratings for this one are pretty dismal, and the gas mileage is atrocious.”

“Yeah, but it’s blue,” Ranma replied, grinning and lifting one shoulder in a half shrug. “So—”

“You can’t just buy a car based on color,” Blaine replied.

“Salesman!” Ranma called over to a nervous looking young man standing nearby in the lot. “Does this one go fast?”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” the salesman replied, stepping closer to Ranma. 

“Fast!” Ranma slapped the hood of the car with his palm. “Does it go fast?”

The salesman looked at the car, then back at Ranma. “Yes?”

“Great, let’s take it out on the road,” Ranma said. He turned and pointed at Blaine. “I’ll even let you drive, since as I’ve been drinking.”

Blaine sighed, but was silently thankful that Ranma had some sense after all. 

“But we gotta go fast,” Ranma said, slinging his arm around Blaine’s shoulders. “Really fast.”

* * *

“You know, this really wasn’t as dire as you made it out to be,” Nabiki said, straightening a stack of papers as she sat behind the desk in Ryoga’s office. It was on the ground floor of the main building of the resort, tucked in the back. It wasn’t messy, but it was sparsely decorated, just shelves stacked with files and various manuals and the desk and a couple chairs. Even the computer had a thin layer of dust on the monitor, although it at least wasn’t a super old model. 

“Really?” Ryoga let out a sigh of relief, and came around to her side of the desk, resting on the edge. He crossed his arms and looked down at her with a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

Nabiki attempted a casual shrug and turned back to the computer. “One thing, though. You are definitely paying your employees too much.”

“Everyone deserves a decent wage,” Ryoga replied genuinely.

She scrolled through the payroll program, refusing to look at him. “You’re too soft for business, Ryoga.”

“Ah, it’s fine, I can afford it anyway.” He scratched his chin. “Can’t I?”

Nabiki tried to hold in a smile. “Actually, yes. This place is pretty profitable. Akemi must do a great job running everything.”

“She really does, I’m glad I hired her,” Ryoga said, nodding. 

Nabiki finally turned to look back at him. “Are you?”

“Yeah,” said Ryoga. “She’s got a good head on her shoulders. After all, she’s the only one in my family with any sense of direction.”

Nabiki blinked. “Family?”

“She’s my cousin,” Ryoga said. “Didn’t you know?”

“I did not.” Nabiki was really struggling to hold in a smile now. Why she was so delighted that the beautiful woman who had been constantly attached to Ryoga’s side had turned out to be his cousin was a mystery. Definitely, totally, completely a mystery. 

“I guess I can finish up the rest,” Ryoga said, looking sad again. 

“Sure,” Nabiki replied. She stood up and scooted past him, ignoring how close their bodies became. He took a seat in the chair and leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk and mournfully picking up the paperwork. 

“Thanks again for all your help,” he said, looking at the papers, and not at her, as she headed toward the door.

She paused, taking in this very strange sight. “You know, it’s weird to see you behind a desk, Hibiki.”

He looked up and gave her a small smile. “I gotta tell you, it’s weird to be behind a desk. I’m not really sure it suits me.”

“It doesn’t,” she responded. “So how about we go for a walk?”

“A walk?” He picked up the papers, regarding them closely as he mumbled. “I don’t know, I should really finish this up.”

She couldn’t blame him if he decided to stay. A long time ago, she had chosen work over him, after all. 

“We got all the really important stuff done,” she said. “And if we go together, we won’t get lost.”

It was forever before he finally looked up at her. Put the papers down.

“Let’s go,” he said. “I’d ra ther be outside.”

This time, she didn’t try to hide her smile.

* * *

Akane had taken over watching the twins after lunch, mostly just to witness them go down the same waterslides over and over again. She had finally managed to convince them to leave, in order to get washed up and changed before dinner. Now they were walking along the front of the resort, where the sidewalk bordered the parking lot. 

“Akane!”

She and the twins looked up at the sound of her name. A blue car was pulling around the parking lot, Ranma hanging out of the passenger side window and waving excitedly. Once it reached the edge of the sidewalk, it stopped, and Ranma threw himself out, face first, somersaulting on the ground. Grabbing onto the edge of the door where the window was rolled down, he pulled himself to his feet and grinned. 

“Ranma?” Akane had literally no idea what else to say.

“Akane,” he said, and slapped the car door. “I bought a car!”

“You what?!”

Blaine exited the driver’s seat and walked around the front of the car, looking exhausted. 

“Really, Dad?” asked Mitsuko.

“Sure did!”

“Why did you buy a car, Ranma?” Akane asked, willing her spirit to stay in her body.

“Why not?”

“What do you even need a car for?!”

“For cakes, Akane,” he replied, scratching his stomach. “Besides, it’s cool! It’s blue and it goes fast!”

“Just like Sonic the Hedgehog!” Mitsuko said, beaming. 

Ranma pointed at her. “She gets it.”

Akane clutched her forehead with one hand and took several deep breaths. “Ranma, this is the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever done.”

“Well, that can’t possibly be true,” he replied, as the kids moved closer to peek into the windows of the car at the interior. 

“Ranma—”

“Can we go for a ride, Dad?” Mitsuko asked, turning to look up at him.

“Sure,” said Ranma.

“You can’t even drive!” shouted Akane.

“Nah, but Blaine can,” Ranma replied. He turned to the other man. “Whaddaya say? Wanna take me back out with the kids?”

Blaine gritted his teeth, but said in a tight voice, “Fine.”

The kids cheered and climbed into the back seat. Ranma turned his smile on Akane. “You wanna come too?”

“Absolutely not,” said Akane. “And you’re not allowed to drink for the rest of the week!”

“What?” he asked in disappointment. “But it’s only Monday!”

“You should have thought about that before you bought a car!”

Ranma squinted his eyes. “Okay, that’s fair, I guess.”

Mitsuko popped her head out of the back window. “Come on, let’s go!”

Ranma kissed his wife on the cheek before climbing back into the car, again through the window. 

“See you at dinner!” he called as Blaine drove away, quickly leaving the parking lot. 

Akane glared after the car as it disappeared into the distance. After a long moment, she let out yet another sigh and turned to continue heading towards the building. She had meant what she said about cutting Ranma off from alcohol. 

Akane, however, was going to drink her weight in rum.

* * *

“So why did you come back to Japan?”

Ryoga paused, leaning on the railing of the boardwalk. It was nearly sunset, the sky above turning gold and pink, although the light was behind them as he and Nabiki looked out over the ocean. As far as he could tell, their walk was going great, even though nearly half a dozen staff members had run up to him at various points to ask him questions. It had been a while since anyone else had bothered them, and the last twenty minutes or so had just been the two of them walking next to each other, making easy conversation and telling old jokes. 

Nabiki leaned forward as well, her elbows on the wood.

“I retired. And I missed my sisters. America was fun, but it wasn’t home.” She grinned. “Is that too sappy?”

Ryoga returned the smile. “No one knows better than me that you actually have a heart.”

“That is so corny,” Nabiki replied, rolling her eyes, although her smile didn’t drop. “You really haven’t changed a bit, huh?”

“I’ve gotten better,” he said with a nod. “Like aged whiskey.”

“What?” she asked, amused.

“Something Ranma told me,” he said with a good-natured shake of his head. With a grunt, he turned and staggered over to a nearby bench before plopping down. 

“You all right?” Nabiki asked, sitting next to him.

“My back is killing me,” he muttered, trying to adjust his spine so he was more comfortable. “Guess it’s just me getting old.”

“I’m older than you,” Nabiki said, dismissively waving one hand as she crossed her legs. “And I never have back problems.”

“Must be nice,” grunted Ryoga. 

“It is,” she replied with a smirk. “But it’s honestly probably because of all the yoga I do.”

“You do yoga?” he asked, raising one eyebrow. 

“Sure, how do you think I stay so calm all the time?”

Ryoga let out a brief exhale of laughter. “Fair enough.”

“You should try it some time,” said Nabiki. “Don’t they have classes here at the resort? I thought I saw that in the brochure.”

“They do,” replied Ryoga slowly. “But they’re all at six in the morning. Rising Sun Yoga, or something like that.”

“I’ll make you a deal,” said Nabiki. “If you go tomorrow, I’ll go with you.”

“You’re gonna get up at 6 A.M.?” Ryoga asked incredulously. “You?!”

“To see you attempt to be flexible?” Nabiki asked, smirking as she leaned back against the bench. “It will be worth it.”

* * *

Blaine stumbled into the hotel room, surprised to find Nabiki already asleep. He had driven Ranma and the children back to the dealership to return the car so Ranma could try to get out of the doghouse with Akane. But they had only returned to the dealership after taking a long drive, Ranma insisting on picking up McDonald’s for him and the kids. Mitsuko had figured out how to connect her phone to the car's sound system and had blasted Baby Shark on repeat the entire time, with her sister and father singing along loudly through every single iteration. 

Blaine let out a deep breath and gently sat on the foot of the bed. Maybe he should turn in, too, before the twins were finished with their baths. They would be polite and quiet if the adults were already sleeping, wouldn’t they?

He didn’t wonder for long, as it was only a few minutes before the twins entered the room, freshly bathed and dressed in pajamas, singing.

“Baby shark, doo doo doo doo doo doo, baby shark doo doo—”

“Please!” Blaine hissed desperately, leaning forward. “I will give you anything to never sing that song in my presence ever again.”

Mitsuko and Keiko shared a quick glance.

“Fifty thousand yen,” Mitsuko said.

“Fifty thousand—” Blaine snapped his mouth shut. Grimaced. Pulled out his phone. He had paid more than that for a haircut, in the past. Not recently, though. “Fine.”

The girls were quiet after that, and went to bed easily. As Blaine lowered himself into bed next to a miraculously still sleeping Nabiki, he started to wonder if it was really even worth it to get in good with her family. 

They were killing him.


	21. Tuesday

_ Tuesday _

“Good morning, Hibiki-san!”

Akemi strode into the room Ryoga was staying in, which was really just office space converted into a makeshift sleeping area next to his actual office. Ryoga slept in a twin bed shoved into the corner, as far away from the windows as possible. She opened the blinds, letting in the very beginnings of light from the sunrise. 

“Akemi,” Ryoga grunted, halfway opening one eye. “We’re family. Call me Ryoga.”

“That would be unprofessional,” she replied with a bright smile. “Now, you told me to get you up at this time so you could attend yoga with Tendo-san. Is that still the plan?”

Without bothering to sit up or open his other eye, Ryoga nodded. “Yeah, yeah.”

Akemi kept her smile on as she pulled him out of bed with surprising strength. The women in Ryoga’s family were always stronger than the men. She handed him ibuprofen and a glass of water, watching as he downed a handful of medicine. Then she replaced the water with a large travel mug full of black coffee and gave him sweatpants, a t-shirt, and a yoga mat. 

“There, you should be set for the day,” she replied, leaving him to change. She didn’t go far, waiting outside his door to make sure he didn’t get lost as he headed for the back entrance of the hotel. He finished his coffee before even making it halfway, and Akemi exchanged his mug for a bottle of water.

“What? I need more coffee,” Ryoga whined.

“It’s more important for you to stay hydrated,” Akemi replied in an unwaveringly friendly tone, despite his audible grumble. “Ah, there’s Tendo-san. You’re her responsibility now. Good luck!”

Akemi bowed slightly as they reached Nabiki, who was standing near the door leading to the outside, dressed in yoga pants and black sports bra, mat tucked under her arm. Ryoga perked up a little. She looked good. Really good. 

And, shockingly, awake.

“Ryoga!”

“Nabiki.”

“You look tired.”

“Obviously. You’re not?”

“I’m way too excited for this,” Nabiki said, her mouth pulling up at the corner. “And I already had a lot of coffee.”

She led him outside, to the open space in the botanical gardens where the yoga lesson was being held. Ryoga was still skeptical about the practice of yoga itself, but spending time with Nabiki like this filled him with a sense of determination and gratitude. His spine was still screeching at him, though, still angry at being disturbed from slumber so early.

The instructor, a pleasant faced woman, directed them to roll out their mats along with the other students. As Ryoga bent over, his spine audibly popped and shot a bolt of lightning through his hip out of revenge. The ibuprofen had to kick in eventually, right?

He took a look around at the other class attendees. All women. He let out a sigh. Some of them were making eyes at him, and being pretty obvious about it. As he had grown older, the amount of female attention he received had increased exponentially. Especially after he grew the beard. Nowadays, he was mostly used to it, even when, like now, they were openly pointing at him and giggling behind their hands. 

He looked over at Nabiki next to him. She wasn’t frowning, but she wasn’t smirking, either. Her brow was low, clearly glaring at the giggling women. Ryoga found a smirk crossing his own face. She was always easy to make jealous, even though she hated to admit it. He had pretty quickly figured out what Akane had been doing the other day when she had left him shell shocked on his back in the sand. Guess it had worked.

Ryoga faced forward, his smirk turning into an outright grin. And then he took his shirt off, eliciting an audible gasp from several of the other students, along with a few more titters. He peered at Nabiki from the corner of his eye and noticed her face was scrunched up tight. 

Well, maybe yoga would be fun after all. 

Although after his fourth cobra pose, he was starting to reconsider. His body was trained to fight, to punch, to take hits. He had never been particularly agile or flexible like Ranma, instead he had always tried to keep himself steady, solid, immovable. Unlocking every tendon in his body like the yoga instructor seemed intent on doing brought on a special kind of terror and ache.

“Okay, now plant your right foot forward, facing the top of your mat. And turn your left foot outward, so it’s parallel to the back of your mat, and lift yourself up into warrior two—”

Ryoga followed along with the instructions slowly, mimicking what the others were doing as he stood. He found himself facing Nabiki. 

She smiled. “You’re facing the wrong way, dummy.”

“Oh, right.” He turned around and readjusted his feet, although he missed seeing her face already.

Vinyasa, plank, downward dog—he went through all the motions as they were demonstrated, and after nearly half an hour, his back actually did start to feel a little better. And then came eagle pose, which involved him wrapping his arms together, which try as he might, he just couldn’t do.

“Nabiki,” he whispered. “Help me.”

She looked over at him and recognized the problem right away.

“Oh my god,” she said loudly. “Your muscles are too big.”

Ryoga blinked in realization, and then grinned as another wave of giggles rolled over the class. Nabiki frowned and faced forward, ignoring his smug expression. 

Towards the end of the lesson, the instructor led them into a wide-legged child’s pose, and Ryoga felt pure euphoria for the first time in his life. Lying forward, his head on the ground, arms out front, his back had finally decided to forgive him his indiscretions, loosening up completely. He turned his head to the side, a goofy smile on his face.

“Nabiki,” he whispered. She turned her head to look at him, her cheek to the mat. 

“What?”

“It’s working.”

A real, genuine, warm smile that made his heart soar. “It sure is.”

* * *

“And where were you two?” Ranma asked, grinning as Ryoga and Nabiki walked into the main dining room, yoga mats tucked under their arms. He was sitting at a big round table, holding a glass of orange juice with a straw that he sipped on knowingly. 

“Yoga,” said Nabiki, taking a seat without further elaboration. Akemi appeared out of nowhere and took Ryoga’s mat and water bottle, then handed him a fresh set of clothes and a clipboard with paperwork to sign. Ryoga dashed off his signature and sat next to Nabiki, smiling. 

“Yoga with Ryoga, huh?” Ranma asked, emphasizing the rhyme and sipping his orange juice some more.

“Ranma, is there vodka in that orange juice?” Ryoga asked suspiciously.

“Maybe,” Ranma replied, still smiling. 

“I thought Akane said you couldn’t drink any more this week,” Nabiki said.

“She’s not awake yet, so she doesn’t know,” Ranma replied, waving the glass around. “And if she doesn’t know, then it doesn’t count.”

“Yes it does.”

Ranma jumped in his seat at the sound of his wife’s voice behind him. He turned and smiled at her nervously. “Hey Akane! Good morning, my beautiful wife, who I love very much.”

“I’ll take that,” she said sharply, lifting the glass out of his hands and taking a seat next to him. The twins were behind her, and they took seats around the table as well. Akane started drinking the screwdriver herself while glaring angrily at Ranma. 

“Wonderful, I’m glad your children are here,” Akemi said, beaming. “We’re having a family friendly movie night this evening for all the children staying at the resort.”

“There’s a theater here too?” asked Ranma.

Ryoga shook his head. “They just put up a big screen outside and show it on a projector.”

“What movie?” Nabiki asked, although she realized the answer as soon as the question was out of her mouth, especially as Ryoga turned to her and grinned.

“The Parent Trap,” Akemi replied politely. 

“Yes!” Keiko shouted, her mouth dropping into a surprised smile. She and Mitsuko slapped their palms together in celebration.

“It’s the original one, from the sixties,” Ryoga told them. “With Hayley Mills.”

“Oh,” Keiko grumbled in disappointment. “I guess that’s okay.”

“So will your children be attending?” Akemi asked Akane.

“Sure, put us down,” Akane said, halfway through her drink. “It’s time these kids watched something made before 1995 anyway.”

“Wonderful,” said Akemi, looking down at her tablet and typing something into it. “We’ll see you then.”

She gave a polite bow and turned to leave. Once she was gone, Nabiki turned to Ryoga, a small smile on her face. 

“The Parent Trap, huh?”

“What can I say?” he asked, shrugging. “It’s a good movie.”

* * *

“You ready to go to the movie?” Nabiki asked Blaine as they sat on the couch in the hotel room as the twins changed in the bedroom area. 

“Isn’t there gonna be a ton of kids there?” he asked miserably. “I’ve had my fill of kids today, thanks.”

Somehow, he had gotten roped into going to the video game museum with Mitsuko and a dourly sober Ranma. Even though Blaine was a fairly casual player of things like Fortnite or Call of Duty, the exhibits in the museum were related to games he had never even heard of before. Mitsuko, however, was very knowledgeable and often shrieked in excitement as they moved from area to area. Ranma was pretty ignorant about the whole matter, and asked his daughter tons of questions, which she answered with similarly high pitched enthusiasm. 

“You were just with Mitsuko, right? That’s only one kid.”

“And Ranma,” muttered Blaine. “That guy acts like he’s ten years old, even when he’s not drinking.”

Nabiki smiled. “True. Will you be all right up here by yourself?”

He nodded. “I’ll order room service. A skinny margarita sounds great right now.”

“Good for you.” Nabiki stood and leaned over, giving him a quick kiss on the forehead as he moved to recline on the couch. Throwing a sweater over her arm, she left the hotel room and was greeted by the sight of Ranma trying to wrangle a very ornery Akane around the waist while their twin daughters stood by the elevator, looking exasperated. 

“Will you chill out?” Ranma asked. It was hard to hold Akane with one arm when she was this fired up, and he was clearly struggling to grab both her and his cane.

“No! Lemme go! I’ll show her! Whaddos, what does, wha does she know?!” 

“Who?” asked Nabiki, smirking as she walked over. 

“My mom,” Ranma said. “Sent her a text after seeing a picture of all the—beverages—Akane drank for lunch on instagram.”

“I’mma go back to Tokyo!” Akane shouted. “Show her who should be ‘concerned’ about the ‘children’s safety!’”

“This is why you shouldn’t post stuff online!” Ranma yelled, starting to drag his wife away towards their room. “Especially when you’re drunk!”

“Oh, so you’re the boss of me now?! You think you’re just the boss of me?!”

Ranma sighed as his wife continued wiggling and squirming in his grasp. “Could you take the kids down to the movie? I’m gonna try to get her to drink some water.”

Akane twisted and slipped out from under his arm and nearly got away before he lunged forward and grabbed her by the collar of her shirt, lifting her up in the air, her feet dangling. “Lemme go!”

“Maybe a lot of water,” Ranma added. “Anyway, do you mind?”

“No problem,” Nabiki said. “Should be fun.”

Ranma dropped Akane and shifted his arm so that he had her around the waist again. Her mood instantly changed and she turned so she could call over Ranma’s shoulder as he dragged her away. 

“Nabiki, take care of my babies! I love them so much!” she shouted tearfully. 

“We’ll be fine,” Nabiki said in a flat tone, giving her a small wave. Ranma and Akane disappeared into their room and she looked down at Mitsuko and Keiko, surprised to see them looking genuinely annoyed. “Oh? Was this not part of your plan?’

“No way,” said Keiko, crossing her arms. “We expected Dad to get drunk, not Mom. She’s way more annoying.”

Nabiki laughed and pressed the down button for the elevator. “You don’t think your Dad is annoying when he’s drunk?”

“Nope,” said Keiko as the doors slid open. “When he’s drunk, he’ll do pretty much anything we ask him to do. Mom is the opposite.”

“True,” said Nabiki as the three stepped into the elevator together. “She’s extremely stubborn.”

The elevator doors closed and there was a _ding_ , followed by another _ding_ that Nabiki didn’t recognize. Mitsuko looked down at her phone and frowned.

“Oh great,” she muttered. “Gran texted me. Asked if I’m safe.” 

“Did she text you too, Keiko?” Nabiki asked. 

“I dunno, I left my phone in the room,” Keiko replied with a shrug. “I only ever use it to check on the family group chat.”

“There’s a family group chat?” asked Nabiki. “And I’m not in it?”

“Uh—it’s just for family that lives in the house,” said Keiko.

“So I suppose that means Ryoga and Rantaro are part of this chat?” asked Nabiki. “When they’re not even family?”

“Ryoga’s pretty much our uncle,” Keiko replied in a grumble. 

“And Keiko wants to marry Rantaro,” Mitsuko added teasingly.

Keiko blushed bright red. “Shut up! I do not!”

Mitsuko looked up at her aunt with a grin. “She absolutely does.”

“He’s gonna marry Ryoichi anyway,” Keiko said, crossing her arms and looking away.

Nabiki raised her eyebrows. “Is he?”

“Yeah, Ryoichi loves him,” Keiko said. “Like, looooooves him.”

“That’s true,” said Mitsuko. 

“But does Rantaro love Ryoichi?” asked Nabiki. 

Both girls paused, unable to answer. 

“Ah, see?” said Nabiki, as the elevator reached the ground floor. “The two of you should really stop making assumptions about how people feel.”

Keiko and Mitsuko both looked down at their feet. The elevator doors opened and they reached up to hold one of Nabiki’s hands each as they walked through the lobby. 

As they reached the front door and stepped out into the evening, Keiko said, “Oh! Maybe we can parent trap Ryoichi and Rantaro!”

“Yes!” Mitsuko cheered, tugging on Nabiki’s hand.

Nabiki sighed. “What did I just say?”

“Don’t make assumptions,” said Keiko. “So Aunt Nabiki, I’ll just straight up ask you: do you still love Uncle Ryoga?”

Nabiki’s jaw dropped open, hanging there for a moment before she snapped it shut. “That’s not what I meant!”

“I’m not hearing a no,” Keiko said smugly, pushing her glasses up her nose with her free hand.

Nabiki frowned, her nose scrunching up. How did Ranma turn out a kid this smart? Well, she was half Akane. Although when it came to things like this, Akane was clumsy and blind. So it must be the Ranma in her, the frustratingly perceptive side of him that reared its ugly head when you least wanted it to. Not that there was anything to perceive! 

They reached the clearing on the edge of the gardens that was set up to have a big projector screen at one end with large speakers on either side. Nabiki was relieved to see several other families there, as she had been temporarily worried this was another scheme to get her and Ryoga alone together. An attendant handed them a picnic blanket and they picked a spot not too far from the front to spread out on the grass. The twilight sky was quickly deepening into purple, with more than a handful of stars visible scattered above them. 

“Here, I’m gonna take a picture to send to Gran,” Mitsuko said, holding up her phone so the inner camera was pointed towards herself. Nabiki leaned in and smiled over her nieces’ shoulders and Keiko held up her fingers in a peace sign. 

“It’s a nice picture, send it to me too,” said Nabiki once they finished. 

“Sure!” Mitsuko responded brightly, leaning over her phone. 

“Why does Gran hate Mom so much?” Keiko asked, pulling her sweater on as the evening chill settled in. 

“She doesn’t hate your Mom,” said Nabiki, unsure if that was the truth. “She just—she just—”

“She just what?” Keiko asked, looking up as her aunt paused. 

“It’s a grown up problem,” said Nabiki, smiling. “You shouldn’t worry about it.”

“She shouldn’t hate Mom though,” said Keiko. “She’s the best mom in the world.”

“She is a great mom,” Nabiki agreed. “Which is why you shouldn’t worry about it.”

“Fine, I won’t,” Keiko replied and flopped down onto her back, looking straight up at the sky. She lifted her hands in the air and started fiddling with her fingers as she stared upward, clearly deep in thought. This didn’t last long, as after a few minutes, she sat up, took her sweater off, tied it around her waist, and hopped to her feet, wandering from blanket to blanket and introducing herself to other kids, alternating with simply running laps around the clearing. 

“Is she okay?” Nabiki asked Mitsuko, who had remained sitting still, staring at her phone.

“She’s always like this,” Mitsuko replied without looking up. “Don’t know why.”

Keiko eventually returned to their blanket and sat down again as the sky grew darker. She sat still, but immediately started chewing on one of her thumbnails, no doubt a habit picked up from Akane. Although Akane tended to do it only when she was extra stressed.

“Are you worried about something, Keiko?” asked Nabiki.

“No,” the girl replied, spitting out a piece of fingernail. “You told me not to, so I won’t.”

“People can’t always help the way they feel,” said Nabiki. 

“You’re one to talk,” said Keiko, turning her attention to the nail of her index finger. 

Nabiki was about to ask her what that meant but was interrupted by Ryoga, accompanied by Akemi, walking up to the edge of their blanket and smiling down in greeting.

“Nabiki.”

“Ryoga.”

“Nice to see you came out to the movie,” he said. “Where’s Ranma and Akane?”

“Akane got drunk and feisty, so Ranma is playing caretaker right now,” Nabiki replied with a serene smile. “So I get to spend time with my favorite nieces.”

“What about Mirai?” asked Ryoga.

“What about Mirai?” echoed Nabiki in a slightly different tone. 

Ryoga smiled broadly, but didn’t quite laugh. “I get it. She did kick me in the face."

"I liked it when she did that, though," Nabiki replied.

“Of course you did.” With no further warning, Ryoga took a seat on the blanket next to them emitting a soft grunt.

“Oh? Are you joining us?” Nabiki asked, amused.

“My back’s hurting again,” Ryoga said, casually looking up at the sky.

“Even after yoga?”

“Guess I’ll have to go to another class.”

“You’ll have to go by yourself,” Nabiki said, looking away. “I’m not getting up that early again.”

“Shh! It’s starting!” Keiko hissed at them as the screen flickered, the projector whirring somewhere in the distance. The speakers crackled to life. Akemi leaned down and whispered something to Ryoga before departing to check on the other guests. 

"What did she say?" Nabiki asked, attempting to feign disinterest.

"Oh you know, something business-y," Ryoga replied with a wave of his hand.

What his cousin had really said to him, with typical Hibiki family earnestness, was "good luck."

* * *

Mitsuko was able to remain sitting still for most of the movie, while Keiko constantly fidgeted, occasionally climbing onto Ryoga’s shoulders or plopping herself into Nabiki’s lap. After forty-five minutes, she seemed to calm some and focus her attention on the movie. It was a dub of the film, as Akemi had worried the younger children attending wouldn’t be able to understand all the subtitles. Nonetheless, it was still entertaining and Nabiki found herself enjoying it.

“This is actually pretty good,” Nabiki commented as Keiko leaned back against her. She wrapped her arms around her niece in order to hold her comfortably. 

“For an old movie, I guess,” said Keiko, pushing up her glasses.

“I like old movies,” said Nabiki.

“Especially if they have giant monsters in them,” said Ryoga with a smile. 

“What do you mean?” asked Mitsuko.

Nabiki’s eyes went wide and she shot a glare over at Ryoga, who ignored it.

“Didn’t you know?” he said. “Your Aunt Nabiki is a big kaiju otaku.”

Nabiki scrunched her face up into a frown.

“Oh, that explains the little Godzilla she had on her dresser in America,” said Keiko. 

Nabiki furiously slapped her hand over the little girl’s mouth and refused to look at Ryoga.

Ryoga, however, was looking at her, a big dopey grin spreading across his face. 

“You kept it?” he asked softly. 

“No,” Nabiki muttered, looking to the side and maintaining her grip on Keiko’s mouth.. “Yes. Shut up.”

“I wonder if you kept anything else,” Ryoga said knowingly, scratching his chin. “Like a kotatsu?”

“You mean the one that has her name on the blanket?” Mitsuko asked, as Nabiki reached over to frantically cover her mouth too. 

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” Nabiki hissed as she held both girls to her, stifling whatever they were trying to say. Ryoga was still smiling, and Nabiki still wasn’t looking at him. She cleared her throat. “Let’s just watch the movie quietly, okay?”

The twins nodded and she released them, and they simultaneously gasped for breath in comedic exaggeration. 

“Aunt Nabiki, you could have killed me!” Keiko whispered, clutching her throat and leaning over, pretending to die. 

“Oh? And just the other day you said you could hold your breath underwater in the hotel pool for ten minutes,” Nabiki said with a smirk.

“Well, obviously that was a lie,” Keiko replied, straightening up.

“Shhh!” A woman on a neighboring blanket hushed them loudly. Nabiki, Keiko, and Mitsuko all turned to her and made faces, sticking their tongues out, eliciting an even deeper frown from the other woman. Ryoga rubbed his beard, hiding a smile.

Eventually, the group managed to settle again and resumed watching the movie. By the end, Keiko had fallen deeply asleep in Nabiki’s lap. Ryoga gently picked her up and carried her, the little girl’s head on his shoulder, drooling. Mitsuko was still awake and alert, helping to fold the blanket before they returned it to staff. She held Nabiki’s hand as they all walked together back to the hotel, maneuvering between other families. 

“Did you have a good time?” Ryoga asked Mitsuko.

“Yeah, it was pretty good. But I liked the Lindsay Lohan one better,” Mitsuko replied. “Did you have a good time Uncle Ryoga?”

“I did,” he said. “I feel like I learned a lot.”

Nabiki pressed her lips together and refused to say anything or look at Ryoga. Even as they walked into the hotel. Through the lobby. All the way over to the elevator. Where she finally relented and lifted Keiko out of Ryoga’s arms slowly in order to carry the still sleeping girl herself, murmuring, “Here, I’ll take that.”

Mitsuko pressed the up button as Nabiki shifted Keiko’s weight carefully. 

“Thanks,” muttered Ryoga, shaking out his arms. 

“Well, I’m going up there anyway,” said Nabiki.

“Not for that,” he said, as the elevator doors opened. Nabiki raised one eyebrow as she stepped inside and turned around to face him. “Thanks for coming out tonight.”

She smiled. “Sure.”

Mitsuko stepped on next to her and the doors started to close. Suddenly, Ryoga put one hand in the opening and pushed them back open. 

“Nabiki,” he said, in a voice as serious as ever. “Do you love him?”

Both her eyebrows shot up. “What?”

“Blaine,” he said. “Do you love him?”

“What are you asking, Ryoga?” said Nabiki. “He’s my fiance.”

“But do you love him?”

She said nothing, just stared back at him as Keiko snored in her ear.

“Tell me right now if you love him,” said Ryoga, releasing his grip on the doors. “If you do, I’ll never bother you ever again. I promise.”

Nabiki hesitated. Took a deep breath. Smiled coolly. Leaned over. Pressed the Door Close button.

As the doors slid shut, she looked him in the eye and said, “Good night, Ryoga.”

Ryoga grinned at the closed doors, listening to the hum of the elevator as it started its journey upwards. Sticking his hands in his pockets, he turned away, whistling as he walked down the hallway, hoping he wouldn’t get lost again.

* * *

In the elevator, Nabiki looked down at Mitsuko.

“Don’t you dare tell Keiko about that.”

Mitsuko tapped her chin with one finger. “One thousand yen.”

“Five hundred.”

“Eight hundred.”

“Seven fifty.”

“Deal.”

Nabiki sighed. Pretty cheap, all things considered. The elevator let out a ding as they reached their floor and they stepped out into the hallway. Ranma was waiting outside the door to his room, alone, leaning against the door and looking frustrated. He brightened when he saw Nabiki and his daughters and met them halfway down the hallway, Keiko being exchanged once more. He held her up easily with one arm, his cane in his other hand.

“Did you guys have fun?” Ranma asked Nabiki, Keiko not being disturbed whatsoever. 

“Tons,” Nabiki replied. “But Ranma, do you—”

She hesitated, and Ranma wrinkled his brow slightly in concern. “What?”

“It’s Keiko,” she said slowly. “Have you ever noticed how hyper she is?”

“Oh yeah,” said Ranma. “Of course. But when she’s asleep, she sleeps hard.”

“Sure, but I meant—” Nabiki paused again. “Maybe I’m overreaching, and I definitely feel like every other kid in America had it, but—do you ever think she might have something like ADHD?”

Ranma tilted his head down to look at the top of Keiko’s head. After a moment, he looked back up at Nabiki and smiled. “Yeah, that would make sense. Should have thought of it before.”

Nabiki smiled back in relief. “You’re not upset?”

“Nah, that’s something we can work on and figure out,” Ranma said with a friendly shrug. “Better her have that than whatever’s wrong with me and Akane.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you and Akane—”

“You know that’s not true,” said Ranma. He was still smiling, but it was a sad smile. “By the way? Could you go and talk to her? She’s in bed and won’t listen to me.”

“Oh,” said Nabiki. “Sure. No problem.”

“Great, door’s open,” Ranma said. “And I’ll go put these two to bed.”

He turned away, Mitsuko holding on to the hem of his shirt. 

“What’s ADHD?” she asked.

“You have a phone now, kiddo,” Ranma said as they reached the double suite. “Look it up.”

Nabiki smiled after them as they disappeared behind the door. Her smile quickly faded once they were out of sight and she turned back to Ranma and Akane’s room. The door was propped open, but she shut and locked it behind her, heading into the bedroom area of the suite, which was mostly dark. There was a lump under the covers on the bed that she assumed was Akane. 

Exhaling slightly, Nabiki slid under the blankets and pulled them over her head so she could face her little sister in the dark. Akane was lying on her stomach, her head turned to the side, her hand up near her head. 

“Oh,” said Akane flatly. “It’s you, Nabiki.”

“To the rescue,” Nabiki said with a smirk. “Now what are you pouting for?”

“I’m not pouting,” Akane replied in a surly tone. “I just drank too much and let my kids down.”

“You absolutely did not,” Nabiki said. “They had a great time at the movie.”

“Thank you for taking them.”

Nabiki could hear tears in her little sister’s voice. She tried to keep her own voice cheery as she replied, “You’re welcome.”

“I shouldn’t have drank so much with my kids around.”

“You deserve to have some fun sometimes. And besides, there were a million adults around who are able to take care of them. Ranma, me. Ryoga. Even your son.”

“Ryoichi’s not an adult,” Akane said. “It’s not fair to depend on him. He should be the one having fun. You all should be having fun, not taking over for me.”

“Akane, be easier on yourself. You’re on vacation. And you do too much anyway.”

“Ranma’s mother doesn’t think so.”

“Who cares what she thinks?”

“Don’t you? You two are so close.”

“Sure, but I think maybe we just have more compatible personalities.”

Akane paused, and then asked in a small voice, “Why does she hate me so much?”

“She doesn’t,” Nabiki replied instantly. “Although she used to ask me the same question about you.”

Akane rubbed her toes against the sheets. “Really?”

“Yeah,” said Nabiki. “I think it’s just she was upset that you never needed her. You were too independent.”

“No I’m not,” said Akane. “You’re the independent one.”

“I thought so too,” said Nabiki. “And then I moved to America. And I thought it would be fun. Have plenty of distance between me and all my family’s shenanigans. But I got lonely pretty quickly, honestly.”

“Really?”

“Really,” said Nabiki. “And she was lonely too.”

“I didn’t mean to make her feel like that,” Akane said softly. 

“I know,” said Nabiki. “But I think the problem was she was a mother who never had a daughter, and you were a daughter who never had a mother. And you didn’t really need one, either.”

“I needed Kasumi,” said Akane, now fully crying. “I needed you.”

Nabiki reached out to touch her little sister’s face, feeling her cheeks wet with tears. “But at the end of the day, we’re just sisters.”

Akane threw herself forward and hugged Nabiki tightly, sniffling into her shoulder. “You’re a good big sister, Nabiki.”

Nabiki returned the hug and smiled. “I know.”

Akane laughed and hugged her tighter. There was a knock on the door and Nabiki pulled the covers down to look up as Ranma entered the room. 

“And how are things going in here?” he asked, leaning against the door frame. 

“Better,” said Nabiki, although Akane remained covered up. “But I think I’m gonna sleep in here tonight.”

Ranma frowned. “So where am I supposed to sleep?”

“On the fold out?”

“Bleh, those things are murder on my leg,” he grumbled.

“Then go bunk with Blaine!”

Ranma tilted his head to the side, a small smile crossing his face. “Okay, that would be hilarious. I’ll do that.”

“Glad we found a solution,” Nabiki replied with a cool smile. “Good night.”

“Good night,” he echoed. “I love you.”

“Who? Me or Akane?” Nabiki asked. 

“Both.” He grinned widely.

“I love you too,” murmured Akane from under the blanket. 

Nabiki let out a deep sigh and rolled her eyes. “I love you too.”

Ranma nodded and then turned and left without another word, shutting the door behind him. Nabiki reclined again and pulled the covers back up, looking over at Akane.

“Poor guy,” said Akane.

“Ranma? He’ll be fine.”

“Not him,” said Akane. “I meant Blaine.”

“Why?”

“He has to share a bed with Ranma.”

“You share a bed with Ranma.”

“Exactly.”


	22. Wednesday

_Wednesday_

Blaine blinked open his eyes, feeling a pain shooting through his temple. Ranma was not a still sleeper and had tossed and turned the entire night, occasionally talking in his sleep, or worse, laughing and crying and calling Akane’s name. It had taken hours for him to settle, allowing Blaine to finally get his own eyes to close and rest. He must not have slept for long. With a yawn, he turned over onto his other side.

“Morning, bud.”

Blaine was surprised and yet unsurprised to come face to face with a wide awake Ranma, who had his head propped up on his hand, a big grin on his face. Staring directly into Blaine’s eyes, he clapped him on the shoulder. 

“How’d you sleep?”

“Terribly,” moaned Blaine. 

“Sorry to hear that, bud,” said Ranma. “I know I can be a bit restless. It’s the leg pain, you know? Can’t get comfortable.”

Blaine only nodded and started to slide out of bed, groggily climbing to his feet. Ranma, despite just having complained of leg pain, was up and standing in no time, grabbing hold of his cane which he had leaned up against the night stand between the beds. 

“Hey, kids! Wake up!”

The twins instantly awoke, bouncing out of bed and giving their father big hugs. 

“What are we gonna do today, Dad?” Mitsuko asked, hanging around his neck. 

“Good question,” said Ranma, lifting her up so she rested on his hip. “Usually you guys are the ones with a plan.”

“I have a great plan!” Ryoga said as he came through the bedroom doors, a smiling Akemi at his side. Blaine rolled his eyes and sighed as he pulled on his shirt and began to button it. 

“Uncle Ryoga!” The twins hopped off of their father and onto Ryoga, who easily caught them, holding one girl in each arm.

“What’s your plan?” asked Keiko.

“They’re setting up a carnival on grounds today,” said Ryoga, smiling. “For the weekend.”

There was a quick thunderous sound of stomping, followed by Ryoichi appearing in the doorway, squeezing himself in between Ryoga and Akemi. 

“Did you say a carnival?!” Ryoichi yelled in excitement, clenching his fists in front of his face. 

“I did,” said Ryoga, a bit confused.

“Yes!” Ryoichi grabbed Ryoga around the torso and lifted him clear off his feet, even while he was holding the girls. 

“You like carnivals that much, Ryoichi?” Rantaro asked. He had much more slowly gotten out of bed and joined everyone else in the twins’ room. 

“Heck yes I do!” Ryoichi said, spinning around, Ryoga and the girls still in his arms. 

“He’s really good at all the games,” said Ranma. “Ryoga’s about to get cleared out of stuffed tigers.”

“That’s fine,” Ryoga said, trying to wiggle out of Ryoichi’s hold. “But can you put me down?”

“Oh, sorry,” said Ryoichi sheepishly, gently lowering him to the floor. “I got caught up in the excitement.”

Ranma smiled. “All right, let’s go wake up your mother and tell her the news. She loves carnival games too.”

Everyone else, except for Blaine, chimed in their agreement and left the room. Blaine was finally able to finish getting dressed in peace, although his head was already starting to hurt. Nabiki had never told him her family was like this. And in New York, Ranma’s father was so lazy while Nodoka was always polite yet passive-aggresive. If Ranma didn’t look so much like his mother, Blaine would have thought the guy had to have been sprung fully formed from the head of an extremely annoying deity. And Akane wasn’t anything like Nabiki, either. Wore her emotions on her face, a ton of anger boiling under the surface, easy to work up. Nabiki had always been unflappable.

At least, until they came here. 

After putting on his pants, he reached over and grabbed his phone. There was a text from Nabiki. He headed out into the hallway and noticed everyone else was out there too, in front of the door to Ranma’s room. Ranma had his phone to his ear and was frowning.

“She’s not picking up,” he muttered, lowering his phone and turning it off. He noticed Blaine as he walked towards them. “Hey, Blane. Have you heard from Nabiki? She and Akane aren’t in the room.”

“Yeah, I was just coming to tell you,” said Blaine. “I got a text. She and Akane went to play tennis.”

“They what?!” Ranma’s face went white. Ryoga’s spine and shoulders stiffened. Ryoichi’s eyes widened in horror. The twins gasped in unison. Akemi and Rantaro both just looked confused.

“Oh no,” said Ryoga, turning and running towards the elevator. “They’re gonna ruin my court!”

The group followed behind him, Ryoichi and Ranma looking the most terrified. The elevator almost instantly arrived, and as they all filed in, Ryoga started shooting off orders to Akemi.

“I’m gonna need you to cancel all the court bookings for the next week, at least. Give them vouchers for free meals, or an extra night’s stay, whatever they want.” Ryoga tapped his foot as the elevator doors closed and they began their descent. Akemi nodded along and typed furiously into her tablet as Ryoga continued speaking. “Call the concrete guy. And the fence guy. And whoever the guy is who makes tennis nets. That guy. Call all the guys!”

“Some of them might be women,” Akemi said, although she didn’t look up.

“I mean guys gender neutrally!” Ryoga snapped. The elevator dinged and the doors opened and they all poured out into the lobby. “Now, don’t let me get lost on the way to the tennis court!”

Akemi nodded forcefully and began to lead the pack. They all stuck together as a small group, all the way outside, past the gardens, down near the golf course, to the fenced in tennis courts. It was clear which one Akane and Nabiki were playing in, as there were several people gathered around, looking on in a mixture of fear and admiration. The tall green fence had several holes blasted through it at irregular intervals, and the grass beyond the court had possibly a dozen or so tennis balls embedded deeply in the ground. 

“Akane! Nabiki!” Ryoga yelled angrily, shoving himself up against what was left of the fence. “What do you two think you’re doing?!”

The sisters, each on one side of the net, turned and glared at him. 

“Stay out of this!” they yelled simultaneously, wearing identical masks of fury.

They were both sweating, hunched over. Akane had pushed her hair out of her face with her sweatband. The veins in her arms were visible as she clutched the handle of her racket and turned back to face Nabiki. Her sister had a tight grip on a fresh tennis ball, maintaining eye contact as she prepared to serve.

There were small craters pockmarking the concrete of the court. The net was barely hanging on to the posts, having clearly been torn and possibly burned by an unknown force. 

As the group gathered behind Ryoga, Blaine turned to Ranma in utter confusion.

“What the hell is going on?”

“They’re not allowed to play together,” said Ranma somberly. 

“Oh?” Blaine raised an eyebrow. “Too competitive, eh?”

“That’s one way to put it.”

Blaine shook his head. “I didn’t even know Nabiki played tennis.”

“Oh yeah, she’s real good,” said Ranma. “Used to play in university until she got kicked off the team for ‘unsportsmanlike behavior.’”

Blaine chuckled. “Sore loser, huh?”

“I don’t know,” Ranma replied in a serious tone. “I’ve never seen her lose.”

Blaine cast a nervous look over at the court. “But Akane is like some super athletic martial artist, isn’t she?”

“Yes,” said Ranma. “But this is the one thing she could never beat Nabiki at. And it drives her absolutely nuts.”

The two men fell silent and watched with the rest of the group as Nabiki began her serve. With a skillful motion, she threw the ball straight up into the air. Instead of waiting for it to fall, she leapt, high, higher than her own height, striking the ball with her racket. The speed and force with which it connected caused the ball to fly sharply downwards, so fast it practically left a trail of flame behind it. As the ball sped towards the ground, Akane dove to meet the projected rebound path. 

However, as it made contact, the ball split apart on the concrete, bits of rubber and fur and stone spraying outwards in a small blast.

As Nabiki landed from her jump, she pointed at the divot on Akane’s side of the court and started shrieking, “That’s a point! That counts as a point!”

“It does not!” Akane shrieked in return, stomping her feet. “The ball exploded!”

“It exploded in bounds!”

“It doesn’t count!”

“It does!”

The two sisters were running towards the remains of the net, ready to murder each other. 

“Ryoichi, grab your aunt, I’ll grab your mom,” Ryoga said as he rushed into the court. Ryoichi was close behind him, and they reached their designated targets at the same time. Ryoga grabbed Akane around the waist and lifted her off of her feet as she flailed around in anger, still trying to lunge for Nabiki. Ryoichi put his arms under Nabiki’s armpits and held her back as she threw her racket to the ground and kicked her feet. 

“Let me go!” Akane hollered, trying to twist herself free, even though Ryoga had her arms pinned to her sides. Her racket clattered to the ground, the rim bending on impact.

“Oh, come on, Akane, don’t act like you don’t like having Ryoga all over you!” Nabiki shouted, herself wiggling in Ryoichi’s grip.

“What is that supposed to mean?!”

“You sure seemed really into your little sparring match on the beach!”

“I knew it! You were jealous!”

“I'm not jealous, you’re just shameless!”

Akane managed to get one arm free. Pointed an accusing finger at Nabiki over Ryoga’s forearm. Shouted at the top of her lungs. 

“And you’re still in love with Ryoga!”

Her words echoed around the court, bouncing off the battered concrete. 

Ryoga froze. Akane froze. Nabiki froze. Ryoichi tried not to smile. Ranma raised his eyebrows, wondering when exactly Akane was all over Ryoga. Blaine cocked his head to the side and frowned. 

“I should probably be concerned about that, huh?” he asked Ranma. 

Ranma gave him a half shrug. “Eh.”

* * *

Ryoichi and Rantaro took the twins to watch the carnival being set up as the adults paired off to fight. Nabiki and Blaine stormed somewhere towards the beach, while Ranma and Akane opted to have it out right there on the tennis court. Ryoga and Akemi also remained at the court, assessing the copious amounts of damage. 

“So you were all over Ryoga, huh?” asked Ranma, slamming the end of his cane on the ground.

Akane rolled her eyes. “It was just sparring.”

“Oh, I know how you like to spar,” he said. “Especially when your opponent is a big strong guy!”

Akane put her hands on her hips. “What is that supposed to mean?!”

Ranma waved his fingertips mockingly. “‘Oh, I’m Akane, and I just love wrapping my huge strong muscular thighs around dudes’ necks!’”

“It’s the quickest way to take them down!”

“Akane, you’ve been practicing martial arts for almost forty years—”

“Don’t put it like that!”

“You know a million other ways to take down an opponent!”

“Yeah, but—” Akane crossed her arms. “That’s the funnest.”

“Akane—”

“Don’t ‘Akane’ me! I can’t believe you’re still jealous of Ryoga!”

“Why wouldn’t I be? Have you seen him lately?! Dude looking like Dwayne The Rock Johnson—”

“Oh my god, Ranma,” Akane said in a stunned voice. “Are you jealous of him, or jealous of me?”

Over by the fence, Ryoga paused what he was showing Akemi and looked over, suddenly very interested in this conversation. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Ranma demanded.

“Oh, do we forget the other day when you were about to ask him for a threesome?!”

Ryoga raised one eyebrow. 

“I was drunk!”

“So you say.”

“You weren’t exactly against it yourself!”

“STOP IT!” Ryoga shouted, and marched over to the two of them, who glared back at him angrily. Ryoga clenched his fists in the air in front of him. “The two of you are are so unbearably narcissistic—”

“Narcissistic?!” the pair asked in unison.

“Yes!” Ryoga yelled. “You just assume everyone you run into instantly falls in love with you!”

“I mean, that is kinda the case,” Ranma muttered, looking at the ground.

“Yeah, that’s definitely been my experience,” Akane added, crossing her arms. 

Ryoga took a deep breath, trying not to explode. “Akane-san, I have had no interest in you since I was seventeen years old. And Ranma, I have never, ever had an interest in you, in my entire life, ever.”

Ranma smirked. “Whatever you say, bud.”

“Get off my court!” Ryoga shouted, pointing towards the fence opening. “Go!”

Shamefaced, Ranma took Akane’s hand and they shuffled away, back towards the hotel. 

Ryoga let out a deep sigh and turned back to Akemi, who was bent over a busted pile of concrete, marking down observations on her tablet. He crouched next to her, trying to get a feel for how bad the damage actually was.

“You know,” asked Akemi. “They are both pretty attractive.”

“For crying out loud, Akemi—”

“I’m just saying,” she shrugged. “Do you think they would be open for a threesome with me?”

Ryoga rolled his eyes. “They talk a big game, but there’s no way they’d ever actually go through with something like that.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. They’ve only ever been with each other since they were sixteen years old.”

Akemi wrinkled her nose. “Squares, huh?”

“Oh yeah,” Ryoga said, turning over a piece of rubble. “Absolutely.”

* * *

Blaine and Nabiki had a fight that went differently, but was still about Ryoga. 

“You gonna tell me what that was all about, babe?” he asked, walking after her as she headed away from the tennis courts and around the far side of the hotel, towards the beach. 

“Just Akane running her mouth,” Nabiki replied, not turning to look at him. “Ignore it.”

“I don’t think I should ignore this, babe,” Blaine said, trying to catch up to her. “You have been spending a lot of time with that guy.”

Nabiki paused where the grass turned to sand, finally spinning around to look at her fiance. “It’s nothing! He’s just Ranma and Akane’s best friend so they have a weird thing about it!”

“Is that why they don’t like me?” Blaine asked. “They wanna see you get back together with Ryoga?”

“Yes, okay,” Nabiki admitted reluctantly. “But they’re crazy! You’ve seen them!”

“You’re kinda crazy too, babe,” he replied. “Like why the hell were you acting like that on the tennis court?”

“I’m competitive,” she said, trying to smile. “You know that.”

“Yeah, like in business,” he said. “Like cutting people out of contracts and that kinda stuff. Not exploding tennis ball type competitive!”

“I just—” Nabiki spread her hands out, for once at a loss for words. 

Blaine shook his head. “Ever since we came to Japan, you’ve been weird. Playing sports, waking up early, hanging out with children—”

“They’re my nieces—”

“<They’re terrors!>” Blaine shouted in English. “<Jesus Christ, Nabiki, they’ve deliberately made my life miserable since I met them. And they’re only nine! What the hell am I supposed to do against nine year olds who have a father that scares the living shit out of me?>”

“Don’t use English, I don’t have the energy,” Nabiki moaned, rubbing her face with her hand. 

“<I’ll use English if I want to! And that’s the other thing,>” said Blaine, looking more angry than she had ever seen him. “<I agreed to move to Japan for you! But I thought with you retiring we’d be traveling around rather than just staying here! But it seems like the only thing you wanna do is hang out with your nutso family and werewolf ex-boyfriend— >”

“<He’s not a werewolf,>” said Nabiki, making the concession in English. “<Although he does turn into a pig.>”

Blaine threw up his hands. “<With you guys, I don’t even know if that’s literal or not!>”

“Listen,” Nabiki said, switching back to Japanese. She stepped up to him, pressing her chest against his. Smoothed her palms flat on the front of his shirt and smiled as sweetly as she could. “I know. I know they’re all crazy. And we probably have spent too much time with them. But hey, I’m gonna marry you, right? You proposed, and—”

She paused, her smile fading for just a second. Shook her head. Put it back on.

“And I said yes.”

“You did,” Blaine acknowledged. His anger relented and put his arms around her back. “After four whole months. My longest relationship ever.”

Nabiki nodded. It had been her second longest, after Ryoga. But she didn’t think it would be appropriate to bring that up. Instead, she just lifted herself up and kissed Blaine, who, despite all his faults, was pretty good at that part. 

Although not as good as Ryoga, who had been excellent.

Now that, she was really not going to bring up.

* * *

Ryoichi and Rantaro were having a great time, exploring the carnival as it was being set up throughout the day. Especially Ryoichi, who took great pleasure in explaining the trick behind each game, although for nearly all of them it seemed to be just being very, very skilled. Even the heavily tattooed and typically grumpy carnies were charmed by Ryoichi’s boyish earnesty, letting him take a peek at the prizes that would be on offer when they officially opened up.

“Ah, the goldfish scoop,” said Ryoichi as an attendant dragged a container full of water and dozens and dozens of tiny fish swimming in frantic circles. Ryoichi crouched down and looked closely at the water, nodding. “This is my favorite.”

“You wanna give it a try?” asked the attendant. “Test it out?”

“Sure!” said Ryoichi brightly, reaching his hand out for the paper scoop he was being offered. 

“No!” Mitsuko grabbed his arm and yanked it back. “Last time you got so many goldfish the koi pond was overcrowded and they all died!”

“Okay, I won’t play for keeps then!” Ryoichi replied, shaking her off. He took the scoop from the attendant and pushed one of his sleeves up, flexing his bicep as he took a deep breath. 

“Here we go,” sighed Keiko, rolling her eyes. Rantaro leaned over curiously, crossing his arms. 

Ryoichi’s eyes flashed, and then his hand was moving quickly, so fast Rantaro could only make out a blur of motion. Fish after fish began to appear in the waiting plastic bags, with Rantaro unable to detect the moment of transfer. Again and again Ryoichi dipped his scoop in faster than the eye could see, until the entire tub was devoid of fish, full of only cool clear water. 

“Mitsuko! Time!” Ryoichi asked as he wiped his forehead with his arm and hopped to his feet proudly. 

Mitsuko looked down at her phone. “Eleven point thirty-seven seconds.”

“Aw,” said Ryoichi, frowning. “Last time I had it down to eleven point two!”

He gave the scoop back to the attendant and smiled again. “Thanks for letting me play!”

Bewildered, the attendant simply nodded and accepted it, before looking down at the bags full of goldfish and scratching his head. Ryoichi walked away with his exasperated sisters and a fascinated Rantaro.

“Ryoichi, that was really impressive,” said Rantaro. “Your mom teach you how to do that?”

“Nah,” said Ryoichi. “I learned it from the old lady that owns the ramen restaurant.”

Rantaro thought about asking more questions, but knew that the answer would probably lead to even more questions, and he would somehow get stuck in a very long conversation, so instead, he said nothing. 

“Whoa-ho, look at that!” Ryoichi ran several feet to another stall where another attendant was hanging up various stuffed animals so they dangled from the roof. What had caught Ryoich’s eye was a six foot long stuffed tiger with a crookedly stitched face. 

:”It’s pretty cute,” Keiko said as she and Mitsuko caught up with him. “I like its dumb face.”

“You always like dumb faces,” said Mitsuko. “It’s why you like Rantaro.”

“Shut up!” Keiko shouted and shoved her sister. 

“Don’t tell me to shut up!” Mitsuko shoved her back, knocking her into Ryoichi’s side. 

He frowned down at them and lifted his sisters by the backs of their collars, one girl in each hand. 

“Stop fighting!”

“She started it!” yelled Keiko, swinging her legs. Mitsuko stuck out her tongue defiantly.

Ryoichi sighed. “You two are really getting too old for this.”

“Not too old for this!” Keiko yelled, swinging again, wrapping her legs around Ryoichi’s arm and rotating herself, causing him to lose his grip. She didn’t quite have the leverage to flip him over, but she did manage to free herself and land neatly on her feet. 

Ryoichi dropped Mitsuko and shook out his arm. Grinning, he looked down at Keiko and said, “Mom would be proud.”

“Yeah if you’re doing martial arts you and Rantaro can get married and run the dojo!” Mitsuko said, grinning. 

“I said shut up!” Keiko yelled, once again lunging at her sister but getting caught around the waist by Ryoichi. 

“Wait, where is Rantaro?” asked Ryoichi as he spun around. He set down Keiko and all three children looked around, Rantaro nowhere in sight among the bustling workers or in the spaces between stalls. 

“Guess he got lost,” said Mitsuko. 

“I’ll call him,” said Ryoichi, pulling out his phone. He dialed the number and held it to his ear and was relieved when he heard Rantaro’s ringtone close by. And then realized the noise was coming from the pocket of the attendant at the ringtoss stall, a scrawny middle aged man who looked back at him wide-eyed. 

“Kazu,” said Ryoichi, stomping up to the stall, having befriended the man a short while ago. “Did you take Rantaro’s phone?”

“It was just hanging out of his pocket,” Kazu said with an attempt at an ingratiating smile. He handed the device to Ryoichi. “Really, I was doing him a favor.”

“Sure,” Ryoichi said, rolling his eyes and snatching his phone away. “Now what are we gonna do? How’s he gonna find his way back without his phone?”

“Or wallet?” asked Mitsuko. “He doesn’t have that either.”

Ryoichi blinked down at her. “How do you know?”

“Cuz I have it,” she replied, pulling it out of her pocket. 

“Kazu!” Ryoichi shouted over to the ringtoss. “Did you show Mitsuko how to pickpocket Rantaro?”

“What can I say?” Kazu asked with a crooked grin. “Kid’s got a gift.”

Ryoichi sighed. “We’ll just have to look for him.”

“Let’s split up, gang!” Keiko shouted excitedly, pumping her fist. She started to walk off before being grabbed by Ryoichi yet again.

“Nuh-uh. Too many carnies around here for you two to wander off on your own,” Ryoichi said. He looked up at Kazu. “No offense.”

Kazu shrugged as he hung up prizes from the top of the ringtoss stall. “None taken. I know what I do.”

Ryoichi put both phones in his own front pockets and grabbed his sisters’ hands. “All right. We’re gonna have to go get the adults.”

“Ugh, boring,” said Keiko, rolling her eyes. 

“This is important. Uncle Ryoga will be worried about him, I’m sure.”

“Okay,” sighed Keiko. “I guess we’ll be responsible or whatever.”

“I’m sure we’ll find him,” said Mitsuko. “He can’t have gotten that far, right?”

* * *

Rantaro was not that far. He was down at the beach, but he didn’t see the hotel anywhere. He could see the ocean. He frowned, biting his lip. His phone was missing. His wallet was missing. But he had been in worse situations. 

He knew Mizukaya was south of Tokyo. So if he kept the ocean on his right side the whole time, that would mean he would be heading north. Eventually he would get at least somewhat close to home, although whether that meant his mom’s house or Ryoichi’s house, he wasn’t entirely sure. 

Firming up his resolve, he began to head out. Unfortunately, they were hundreds of miles from Tokyo.

And Rantaro didn’t know his left from his right.

* * *

Ryoichi sent a text to all the adults asking to meet in the lobby by Kamapua’a. By the time he and his sisters reached the statue, everyone else was already there. Ranma and Akane had made up from their fight several times and were smiling and relaxed. Blaine was glaring daggers at Ryoga, keeping his arm tight around Nabiki. Ryoga nervously tried to avoid the confrontational gaze and Akemi stood at his side, looking concerned.

“—And he doesn’t have his phone or his wallet,” Ryoichi said, finishing explaining the situation. 

“He should be okay, I taught him how to take care of himself,” said Ryoga. “I never had a phone when I was his age.”

“And that was in the Taisho era,” said Keiko sarcastically. “People have phones now.”

“When was the Taisho era?” Ryoichi muttered to Mitsuko.

“You don’t know?” she asked.

“Oh, I’m just supposed to know when the Taisho era was?” Ryoichi asked indignantly.

“Yes!” cried his exasperated mother. “Yes, you are!”

He waved one hand dismissively. “Haven’t needed to know so far.”

“Rantaro is lost,” said Akemi. “And how often does he go without his phone?”

“Not very often,” Ryoga admitted. “He’s basically had one since he was ten.”

“And you were going to make us wait until we were twelve?!” Keiko demanded of Akane. 

“It’s not like you guys listened to me!”

“Can we just go and look for the kid?” Blaine asked, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. 

“Oh? You actually want to find one of the children?” Nabiki commented in surprise.

“I like Rantaro the best out of the bunch of them,” Blaine said. “He’s quiet.”

“You actually like my son?” Ryoga asked. 

“Like I said,” Blaine muttered, looking away. “He’s quiet.”

“All right, let’s go,” said Ranma with a friendly smile. “Get the kid out of a classic Hibiki scrape.”

“I’m a HIbiki,” said Akemi. “I never get lost.”

“It’s true,” said Ryoga. “She was the only one in my family besides my mom to make it to my wedding.” 

Ranma put one hand on his friend’s shoulder. “That is just a stone cold bummer, dude.”

“Most of his life is a stone cold bummer,” Nabiki said under her breath, although everyone heard. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Ryoga asked, suddenly angry.

“You know what it means!”

“Enlighten me!”

“That’s it, I’m going!” Blaine threw his hands up in the air before grabbing Nabiki by the wrist and starting to pull her out of the lobby. “We’ll find this kid or die trying!”

“I’m not trying to die—”

Nabiki’s voice was lost as Blaine dragged her outside, past the doors. 

“I didn’t think it was that high stakes,” said Akane quietly, crossing her arms. “I mean, Rantaro’s a pretty capable kid, isn’t he?”

“He is,” said Ryoga. “But Akemi’s right. I don’t think he’s gone without his phone for ages. Might throw him off.”

“I don’t think it’s possible to throw anybody in your family more off than they already are,” said Ranma. He reached down and took Keiko’s hand. “Come on, kiddo, you’re with me.”

“Really, Dad?” Keiko asked, bouncing on her toes. 

“Yep. Mitsuko can go with your Mom.”

Akane and Mitsuko smiled at each other and joined hands as well. 

“What about me?” asked Ryoichi, following his family as they began to walk out of the lobby. 

“You can cover more ground on your own,” said Ranma. “Who knows how far that kid has got by now?”

Ryoga and Akemi were left alone by the statue of Kamapua’a. 

“Guess it’s me and you, huh?”

Akemi sighed. “I kinda had plans tonight.”

Ryoga crossed his arms. “Actual plans or were you just going to flirt with Ranma and Akane?”

Akemi waved one hand back and forth. “Okay, yes, those were my plans. But they were still plans!”

Ryoga sighed and started walking towards the elevator. “Come on, help me find my son.”

Akemi scampered after him, trying to keep up.

“Wait, you’re going the wrong way—”

* * *

Rantaro was in the woods. Or at least, a set of woods. It was starting to get dark outside. He knew how to start a fire, make a shelter. And he had slept on plain ground with nothing else before. But it had been a while. He really wanted to sleep in the comfortable bed in the hotel room, even if Ryoichi snored. 

He wasn’t entirely sure how he had ended up surrounded by trees. One second the ocean had been right next to him, and then when he looked up again, it was trees, trees everywhere. 

With a deep sigh, he looked up at the sky. Only a few stars were out. He had tried to learn how to navigate by starlight, but it had never done him any good. It was like the information fell out of his brain like water through a sieve. 

An idea struck him. Maybe he should go the opposite way of whatever his first instinct was. It’s not like he could get any more lost that way. 

Rantaro turned on the spot, and lucked out, unknowingly having chosen the way back to the hotel.

* * *

“Well, he’s not out here.”

Nabiki folded her arms over her chest as she stood in the middle of the golf course, next to a perturbed Blaine. They were completely surrounded by meters and meters of clear, open space in every direction. 

“Who knows?” muttered Blaine, stomping across the darkened grounds. “He could be out here somewh—EEYYAH!”

Blaine dropped out of sight, as if vanishing into thin air. Nabiki ran over to where he had been standing, her eyes wide with concern. 

“Help me!”

She looked down to see that he had tripped down a small slope and landed in a sand trap. He was sitting on his ass, clutching at his leg.

“Blaine! Are you okay?”

“<I fucked up my ankle!>” he shouted in English. “<It hurts like a son of a bitch, I tell you what—>”

“Okay, don’t go all Hank Hill on me,” Nabiki muttered. “I’ll call someone for help.”

She pulled her phone from her pocket. Frowned. Lifted it up to the sky, staring at it. Started wandering around the golf course. 

“Just as soon as I find a signal—”

* * *

“Dad let’s go night swimming in the ocean,” Keiko said, attempting to drag her father down the beach.

“No, we have to find Rantaro. Also night swimming in the ocean when your dad only has one good leg is probably not the best idea,” Ranma replied, firmly resisting his daughter’s tugging on his arm. 

“You’re supposed to be the fun one,” Keiko grumbled as her father lifted her up the steps of the boardwalk in one big swing. They turned and strolled along the wooden path heading towards the back of the resort. 

“Your mom is plenty fun,” said Ranma. Keiko turned her head away as he looked down at her. Kid was probably overstimulated. He looked back up to see Akane and Mitsuko emerging from the pool area. “Look, there she is with your sister.”

“Any luck?” Akane asked as they approached. 

“Nope,” said Ranma. “Kid is good and lost. He’s probably ten miles away by now.”

Akane bit her lip. “I hope not. I’m actually worried about him.”

“He’s a tough kid,” said Ranma. “Like Ryoga.”

“Ryoga-kun really isn’t that tough,” replied Akane. “Just puts on a big show.”

“Mom! Dad!” 

Ryoichi jogged up to them from the direction of the parking lot. 

“Did you find him?” Ranma asked as his son reached them.

“No,” said Ryoichi. “I was gonna ask you guys if you did.”

Akane sighed. “Maybe we should call the police.”

“Don’t be a snitch, Mom,” Mitsuko said.

“Where did you learn that word?!”

Ryoichi patted his sister on the head. “We were hanging out with carnies earlier.”

“Carnies?!”

“She has a point, Akane,” Ranma said. “The cops have never been any help to us. And I feel like we’ve suffered a lot of property damage, assault, and harassment.” 

“I guess,” muttered Akane. “Well what should we do?”

“I’m hungry,” said Keiko, jumping onto Ryoichi’s back so he had to carry her piggyback style. “Let’s get snacks.”

“I’m hungry too,” chimed in Mitsuko.

“Ryoichi, will you take your sisters to get something to eat?” asked Akane. “Your father and I will keep looking.”

“Sure Mom, no problem.” Ryoichi hooked his arms under Keiko’s legs and had Mitsuko grab onto the hem of his shirt as he led them away.

Akane turned and held her husband’s hand, noticing his weight sag a bit, his grip tighten on his cane. 

“How are you feeling?” she asked once the kids were out of earshot.

“I’m all right,” Ranma said. “A bit stiff. But I just need to walk it off.”

“Are you sure? We can rest.”

“I’m sure. But let’s not go back to the beach. Walking on the sand is too tough.”

“How about the gardens?”

“Sounds nice. Let’s go.”

* * *

Rantaro couldn’t believe it. 

The gleaming white sides of the main resort building loomed in front of him, illuminated in the dark. He had found his way back. He just needed to find his way around the resort itself, make his way to the lobby. Then he could get someone to call his dad. 

That’s all he had to do. Find the front door. 

He passed it twelve times.

* * *

Akemi rounded a corner in the botanical gardens, emerging around a rose bush. Ryoga had been right next to her less than two minutes ago, and now he was gone. She was thankful to whatever higher powers existed that she had been the mutant in the Hibiki family and didn’t inherit whatever gene compelled her relatives to become hopelessly lost. 

She had removed her blazer in the lobby before leaving, but now she felt a little bit of a chill. She unclipped her hair and let it fall loosely around her neck and shoulders, crossing her arms over her torso. Having to search for not only Rantaro, but Ryoga now, too, was definitely not how she was planning on spending her night.

Down the path, she noticed Ranma and Akane walking hand in hand. She smiled. Well, maybe she could salvage her evening yet. 

“Hi!” Akemi waved to them, walking up at a quick pace. 

“Oh, Akemi-san, hello,” said Akane with a pleasant smile. “Where’s Ryoga-kun? Did he find Rantaro?”

“No, unfortunately,” replied Akemi. “I’ve lost track of Ryoga now, too.”

“That idiot,” grumbled Ranma, rolling his eyes. 

Akane’s brow crinkled in the middle, right above the bridge of her glasses. Akemi bit her lip. That was pretty cute. 

“Well, Ryoga-kun has his phone, at least,” said Akane. “So I guess we should still focus on finding Rantaro.”

“Or we could do something else,” Akemi said with a sly smile. She stepped in closer to Akane. “Have some fun, you know? Just adults.”

Akane hesitated, her eyes narrowing in confusion. Ranma put his arm possessively around Akane’s shoulders. 

“Akemi, are you hitting on my wife?” he asked.

“Oh no, don’t be silly,” Akemi said, holding her hands up, palms out. Both Ranma and Akane let out sighs of relief. Akemi beamed and added, “I’m hitting on both of you!”

Ranma and Akane were both left speechless, a rare occurrence. 

Somewhere in the trees, an owl let out a deep bellowing hoot and took flight, its shadow overtaking the moon. 

* * *

Ryoga took a step up onto a platform. Ah. He was in the terrace restaurant, on the upper level. All the tables were empty, as it was after closing time. The lanterns strung up around the different levels were still illuminated, but no one was around.

Except for one person, leaning their elbows against a railing, smoking.

“Nabiki.”

She looked up and sighed, stubbing her cigarette out on the railing before flicking it away into the distance. 

“Ryoga.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Just needed to find someplace quiet.”

He walked over and rested his elbows on the railing as well, standing next to her. “Where’s Blaine?”

“Fell and twisted his ankle. They took him to the twenty four hour clinic.”

“Is he all right?”

“Yeah, he’s fine,” Nabiki said. “Probably not even sprained.”

“That’s good.”

“Is it?” Nabiki asked, not looking for an answer. “You find your kid?”

“Not yet. I don’t know if you can tell, but I am technically lost right now myself.”

“Well, that’s always true,” Nabiki said with a smirk. She straightened up and stretched her arms over her head. “Come on, I’ll help you get back inside.”

Ryoga watched her, hands in his pockets, as she turned and started walking away from him, towards the hotel. When she realized he wasn’t following, she paused and looked back.

“Well? Are you coming?”

Ryoga took a few steps forward, head low. 

“Are you really gonna marry that guy?”

Nabiki blinked. “What?”

“That guy!” Ryoga looked up sharply. “You’re really gonna marry that guy?”

“Ryoga—”

“Why? I don’t get it!”

“He’s rich! And he does whatever I say!”

“I’m rich! I do whatever you say!”

“Clearly you don’t, or we wouldn’t be here right now!”

“We were together for five years!” Ryoga took his hands out of his pockets. Clenched them into fists in mid-air. “I loved you more than anything in the world! I proposed! And you got so upset you kicked me out! And now you’re marrying that guy?!”

Nabiki put her hands on her hips, glaring back at him. “What is your point?”

“You told me you never wanted to get married!” Ryoga shouted.

“And you told me you never wanted to have kids!” Nabiki shouted back. “Looks like we were both liars.”

“I—”

“Dad?”

Ryoga turned slowly in place to see Rantaro standing by a table only a few feet away. And behind him, Ranma. Akane. Akemi. Mitsuko. Keiko. Ryoichi. Somehow, they had all managed to converge here, all at once, at the exact worst time. 

“Dad, is that true?” Rantaro asked, looking as close to crying as Ryoga had ever seen him. “Did you not want me?”

Ryoga looked back at Nabiki. At Rantaro again. He could only fix one problem at a time. And even though Nabiki was right, he hadn’t wanted kids, he chose his son.

“Rantaro,” Ryoga said in a gentle voice, exhaling. “It’s more that you weren’t exactly planned. But I’m sure you knew that already—”

“But you didn’t want me!” Rantaro shouted. He balled his fists at his sides, dug his heels into the ground. 

“Once you were here, I did!” Ryoga protested. “Once I met you. Once I held you. I never regretted it, not for a second.”

Rantaro wiped his face with his thumb, pushing tears away. “Why didn’t you want me before that?”

“I—I—” Ryoga took a deep breath. “I didn’t want kids because I didn’t want them to be like me. Look at me, Rantaro. I’m forty-two years old, single, always need a haircut, barely see my son, and as Ranma says, I can’t find my ass in a paper bag!”

“That’s true,” mused Ranma, although he was quickly silenced by an elbow in the side from Akane. 

“And when I was a kid—” Ryoga shook his head. “Things were worse. I don’t get along with your mother anymore, but I’m glad you have her. She’s always in the same place, where you can find her. I didn’t have that. I was lonely. I was so lonely. Miserable. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, but especially not my own child.”

Ryoga was exhausted, but Rantaro was still staring at him, so he kept going. 

“I’m sorry, Rantaro,” he said. “I’m sorry I gave you such a messed up life. I’m sorry I wasn’t around more. I tried. I really did.”

“I know you did, Dad,” Rantaro said, wiping his eyes with the heel of his palm. “It’s okay. You were always there when I needed you.”

Ryoga gave his son a weak smile, his shoulders drooping as his energy was drained.

“Hug him!” shouted Keiko from her spot on Ryoichi’s back. “Hug him! Hug him—”

“I’ll hug him, don’t chant,” Ryoga said, rolling his eyes. He stepped forward and embraced his son tightly. Tears were falling from his own eyes now.

“I love you Dad,” Rantaro mumbled into his father’s shoulder.

Ryoga patted him on the back. “I love you too, son.”

Ryoichi patted his chest with his open hand, choking back tears. “My heart is so full right now.”

Mitsuko rolled her eyes. Keiko smiled. Ranma put his arm around Akane’s waist and she leaned against his chest. Akemi put her hand on Akane’s shoulder and squeezed, eliciting a worried side-eye from Akane. 

Ryoga pulled back from his son and clapped him on the shoulder, both of them smiling. Ryoichi ran up, Keiko bouncing on his back, and handed Rantaro his phone.

“Here, man.”

“Thanks. Where did you find it?”

“Carny took it,” Keiko replied. 

Ryoga frowned. “Akemi! Should we really have these people on property?”

Akemi threw her hands up in a shrug. “You wanted a carnival. You can’t have a carnival without carnies.” 

“Did I want the carnival? I thought that was your idea.”

“Akane said you did.”

Everyone turned to Akane, who grinned nervously. “What? I like carnivals and I haven’t been to one in a while. We’re on vacation!”

“Yes!” shouted Keiko, pumping her fists in the air. “Mom is the fun one!”

Akane beamed. 

Ryoga sighed. “I guess I’ll go chase down Nabiki now—”

“What? I’m right here.”

Ryoga turned around to see Nabiki standing in the exact same spot, not having moved.

“Nabiki—”

“You think I would leave just because you talked to your son?” She crossed her arms over her chest. Turned her head to the side and sniffed disdainfully. “If you hadn’t picked him over me, you wouldn’t be the guy I thought you were.”

The corner of Ryoga’s mouth pulled up into a half smile. “Nabiki—”

“No, wait.” Nabiki put her palms out, stopping him. “Listen, Ryoga. I’m sorry. But we’re older now. Things are different. And I—I’m marrying somebody else. I’m sorry.”

Ryoga watched her turn, walk away, following the shape of her back as she headed back towards the hotel. The breeze from the ocean ruffle the ends of her hair against her neck. The slope of her shoulders. The curve of her hips.

Ranma walked up behind him. Placed one hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“Sorry, bud.”

Ryoga turned his head to look at him. Lifted his heavy eyebrows up crookedly. Grinned.

“Don’t be,” said Ryoga. “She loves me.”


	23. Thursday

_ Thursday _

Nabiki woke up in bed alone. Blaine had decided to stay at the clinic overnight for observation. The twins had gone to bed uncharacteristically early and quietly. She had been exhausted by the day before, starting with her stupid tennis match with Akane and ending with an emotional confrontation she had been deliberately avoiding. 

She turned onto her back and looked up at the ceiling. There was no sound of the twins breathing or snoring or making any noise. She glanced over at their bed, which was empty. Looked back up at the ceiling. Took a deep breath. 

Boy troubles, at her age. She was too old. Too mature. To get involved with Ryoga Hibiki, and his earnest son, and all their issues. It was one thing, to go through heartbreak and love triangles when you were in your twenties. When you’re young and energetic and broke, before your brain develops the ability to recognize long term consequences. To be forty-three and still having to deal with all this uncertainty and turmoil just seemed unfair.

A short series of raps sounded at the door. Nabiki groaned and sat up.

“Yes?”

The door opened to reveal, surprisingly, Ranma. He grinned and walked over to her bed, sitting on the edge, leaning his cane against the side. Nabiki groaned again and flopped back down.

“Hey, I wanted to talk to you.”

“No thanks,” said Nabiki, and put a pillow over her head. 

“Come on, it’s about Ryoga—”

“Yeah, I know, of course it’s about Ryoga,” she grumbled from under the pillow. “That’s why I said no thanks.”

Ranma shook his head. “I don’t get why you’re so against giving him another chance—”

“Are you kidding?” Nabiki removed the pillow and turned to look at him. “You didn’t talk to him for like fifteen years!”

“Okay, so? That’s because he was a real dick to me. He was never a dick to you.”

Nabiki said nothing, just rolled over onto her side. 

Ranma sighed. “Do you know why I forgave him?”

Nabiki crossed her arms and didn’t look at him, but asked in a quiet voice, “Why?”

“He was kind to my children. And he was kind to me, when he didn’t have to be,” Ranma said. “Just on instinct, he put his hand out to help me. And tried.”

“So?”

“So that’s the kind of guy Ryoga is. You’d be stupid to pass that up.”

“You are the last person in the entire world that I want relationship advice from.”

“What?” asked Ranma indignantly. “Why?”

“You’re in an arranged marriage!” Nabiki rolled over and sat up. “To my sister!”

“So what?”

“So you don’t have any real experience dealing with these things, Ranma!”

“You don’t think what Akane and I have is real?”

Nabiki frowned. Ranma looked genuinely hurt. That sucked. His voice had even shook when asking the question. 

“Of course I do,” said Nabiki. “And that’s also part of the problem.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know. You two, brought together by fate. Destined to fall in love. Ordered by the stars. All that crap. Sickeningly, disgustingly, in love! It’s a very frustrating example!”

“Okay,” said Ranma slowly. “I get it. Not everybody has what Akane and I do. But I gotta tell ya—you and Ryoga were pretty close.”

“Oh, shut up,” Nabiki sighed, closing her eyes. “You don’t know anything about it.”

“I know Ryoga is a miserable bastard whenever he’s not around you,” said Ranma. “And I know you’re a miserable bastard whenever you’re not around him.”

Nabiki stuck her tongue out at him. Ranma laughed. Grabbed his cane and stood, wobbling ever so slightly. Nabiki noticed and felt a brief pang of concern. It quickly faded as she watched Ranma walk steadily over to the door. 

He paused, his hand on the latch.

“Listen,” he said softly, turning to face her. “I know Blaine is probably your safe choice. But as long as I’ve known you, you’ve never been the ‘safe choice’ type of girl. Take a chance again. Be happy.”

Nabiki didn’t respond. Ranma left her alone, closing the door behind him. She fell back onto the bed, letting out a deep sigh.

She really hated it when her little brother was right.

* * *

“Lucky winner!”

“Yay!”

Akane threw up her hands in celebration as the booth attendant for the senbonbiki game fetched her prize, a gift card to a fancy department store. She beamed and stuck it inside her small purse.

“You are always lucky at those, Akane,” Ranma said, taking her hand so they could stroll together through the rest of the carnival. 

“It’s just figuring out the odds,” said Akane. “Which strings have already been pulled, the tension in the string indicating their direction, the perspective weight of the prize at the end—”

“Akane, are you telling me you figured out a way to cheat at senbonbiki?”

“It’s not cheating,” Akane scoffed. “It’s knowing how to play the game.”

“It’s supposed to be a game of chance,” Ranma said, stopping in front of a taiyaki cart. “You can’t control everything, you know.”

“I can sure try,” Akane replied. “And I did win, didn’t I?”

“You sure did,” Ranma said, taking two taiyaki from the vendor. He handed one to Akane, who accepted it eagerly. “I like that you’re competitive against fate.”

Akane laughed, cradling the warm pastry in her hands. “I’m not going to let fate get the best of me, that’s for sure. I get to choose what happens to me.”

Ranma smiled down at his wife, watching as she took a bite of the fish shaped cake. This was as real as it gets. 

“Hey, Akane.”

“What?” she asked, looking up with a mouthful of taiyaki.

“I love you.”

She giggled and swallowed down her food. “I love you too.”

They walked side by side a little further, the sun hanging low in the sky, the purple haze of twilight forming around the edges of the fair. 

“Mom! Dad!”

There was a large stuffed tiger with a crooked face and two short human legs visible beneath its stomach running over the grass towards Ranma and Akane. It reached them and Ranma adjusted the tiger’s body to reveal Keiko’s beaming face. 

“Look what Ryoichi won for me!”

“Pretty cute,” said Ranma. He looked past her where Ryoichi, Rantaro, and Mitsuko were walking up to them as well. Mitsuko held a plush otter in her arms, looking just as pleased as Keiko was with her own prize. “Ryoichi, you won these for your sisters?”

“Yep,” Ryoichi replied. He dug into a canvas bag he was carrying and pulled out a plush black dog and handed it to his mother who let out a squeal of delight. Then in turn gave his father a stuffed tanuki. “And I got you prizes too.”

“Thanks,” said Ranma, squishing the tanuki’s limbs together as it held it by its back. “You’re officially my favorite now.”

“Did you not get anything for Rantaro?” Akane asked. 

“I won him a Doraemon but he refuses to take it,” Ryoichi replied.

“I’m not a kid,” Rantaro muttered, crossing his arms. 

“You’re too serious, Rantaro-chan,” Ranma said, reaching out to ruffle the teenager’s hair. “Would’ve thought we had loosened you up by now.”

“Don’t call me that!” Rantaro shouted, blushing and pulling away. 

“Ranma, don’t tease him,” said Akane. 

“Well you know Ryoga doesn’t, so somebody has to—”

“Nobody has to,” muttered Rantaro. 

“Where is Uncle Ryoga?” asked Keiko, struggling to hold up the tiger.

“He said he had his own idea for the next part of the plan,” Ranma replied, picking up the tiger and slinging it over his shoulders.

“What is it?” Keiko asked excitedly. 

“Dunno. But knowing him, you might want to think of a backup.”

* * *

“Can we sit down now?”

“Yeah,” said Nabiki, over Blaine’s whining. He had managed to convince clinic staff to give him a pair of crutches for his ankle, which apparently had a mild twist. At least they had refused his request for a cast. 

She took the yakitori from the vendor and walked over to a grouping of nearby picnic tables, Blaine hopping along behind her. They managed to find an open table, with Nabiki sitting on one side, and Blaine fumbling his way into the other side, slamming his crutches down on the tabletop. Nabiki handed him his yakitori and looked around as she nibbled at her own. It was a fairly large clearing, food vendors lining the edges, a makeshift stage at one end. 

There were a few carnies on stage, tooling around in an amateur fashion with various instruments. One of them did manage to carry a decent sounding tune on the trombone. 

“At least the weather has been nice all week,” Blaine said, taking a bite of yakitori. “Even if everything else was a shitshow.”

“You didn’t have fun bonding with Ranma?” Nabiki asked, resting her elbows on the tabletop, unable to hold in a smile. 

Blaine chewed his bite of chicken and glowered back at her. “He’s not exactly the kinda guy I’m usually friends with, babe.”

“Too bad,” replied Nabiki. “You’re missing out.”

“Good evening, everyone, good evening!”

The greeting that boomed from the stage was followed by a whining blast of feedback. Nabiki winched and looked over to see Mamoru fidgeting with a microphone, awkwardly freeing it from the stand. She smiled as she saw Ami take a seat at the drums behind him. Maybe they were going to put on another show. Maybe Mamoru would sing again.

“Sorry about that, folks. Are you all having a good time at the carnival?”

There was a smattering of applause from the guests at the picnic tables and even a halfhearted _woo_. Mamoru grinned as if playing a sold out arena. 

“Awesome! We got an even bigger treat for you tonight, still. The owner of this place is putting on a performance—unplugged!”

No response from the audience, although a few maintained their gaze on the stage. Nabiki rolled her eyes and turned back to Blaine. That meant Ryoga was going to play his stupid acoustic guitar. She hoped he wasn’t going to sing.

“Folks, here he is, Ryoga Hibiki!”

Only two people clapped. Nabiki took another bite of yakitori, not bothering to watch Ryoga walk on stage.

“Great, this guy,” grumbled Blaine. “He’s a musician, too?”

“He’s all right,” said Nabiki coolly. “Only plays acoustic, though.”   


Blaine frowned and tore the last piece of yakitori from its stick. 

Ami began to play the drums, but it was different from her usual playing. Nabiki’s shoulders stiffened. She knew that drum beat. Knew it like her own heartbeat. Oh no. 

Ryoga began plucking out the notes on his guitar. Again, she knew them so well her soul vibrated with the tune. Shook, she turned in her seat to look up at the stage. Ryoga was smiling, but not looking at her, carefully moving his fingers up and down the neck of the guitar. Nabiki felt her heart race inside her chest. The lights of the carnival had cast Ryoga in a colorful glow, illuminating his face. 

Nabiki tried to steady her breathing as Ryoga finally looked up. Right at her. His grin grew, and she could see his fangs flashing through his beard. The corner of her mouth tugged upward ever so slightly.

“What’s this song?” Blaine asked, snapping her out of her trance. “I don’t know it.”

She turned to him and shook her head. “It’s, um. The theme from Mothra.”

“Mothra?” he asked, furrowing his brow.

“You know, the—the kaiju. Giant moth. Mothra.”

“Oh, that movie,” said Blaine, scratching his chin. “Kinda stupid, huh?”

Nabiki’s spine snapped straight. Her jaw clenched. “What?”

“You know, big monster movies like that. They’re stupid. Never make any sense.”

Nabiki pursed her lips. Threw the remains of her yakitori on the ground. 

“We’re done.”

Blaine blinked. “Huh?”

“We’re done! We’re over! We’re broken up!”

“Oh, that’s just great,” Blaine said, spreading his arms out wide. “That’s fine! I don’t need any of this!”

Struggling, he attempted to withdraw his legs from the picnic table and grabbed his clutches, fumbling as he got to his feet. He hovered next to the table, glaring at Nabiki. She crossed her arms and glared back at him intensely.

“You know, you and your whole family are nuts! And you just let them walk all over you!”

“I do not!”

“This whole damn trip was a setup! That you fell for!”

“You don’t know anything about it!”

“Oh, I know! I know I’m gonna go home, and I’m gonna ask Dad to set me up with one of the daughters of his law partners. And she’ll be normal! And not into stupid monster movies!”

“You’re such an ass! They were all right when they said you’re the worst!”

“Oh yeah?” asked Blaine snottily. “If I was really the worst, would I have still been able to get thirty-seven new followers from your nephew’s tiktok?!”

“Oh my god,” Nabiki moaned. “Just leave!”

“Gladly!”

He hopped away, shaky on his crutches, nearly toppling over. Nabiki sighed and turned back to the table, putting her face in her hands. 

“Hey.”

Nabiki peeked through her fingers to the source of the voice. Ryoga, standing at the head of the table, grinning ear to ear. She covered her eyes again.

“Go away, Ryoga.”

“So you guys broke up, huh?”

“You think?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, trying to keep the elation out of his voice. “That—that really sucks.”

Nabiki sighed. Let her hands fall. Took a deep breath and swung her legs over the bench of the picnic table in order to stand up. Crossed her arms as she looked up at Ryoga. 

“You really think that?”

“Sure,” said Ryoga, unable to stop smiling. “It’s just—awful. Heartbreaking.”

“The worst liar of all time,” said Nabiki. She poked him in the chest. “Don’t you for one second think that just because I broke up with Blaine, that means I’m going to get back together with you.”

“Sure.”

“I mean it!”

“Okay.”

“Augh!” Nabiki spun on her heel, unable to look at his unerring smile any longer. She marched away, back to the main thoroughfare of the carnival. 

This, unlike Mothra, was extremely stupid.

* * *

Ranma stepped out of the portapotty, wiping his hands on the front of his pants, switching his cane from one arm to another as he did so. The rest of the family was nowhere in sight. Probably got bored waiting for him. He wondered how Ryoga’s plan had worked out. 

His question was somewhat answered when he noticed Blaine hobbling away at the edges of the carnival, back to the hotel, looking furious. Ranma grinned and caught up to him easily, even with his cane, as Blaine was really not great at using crutches.

“Hey, bud!”

“Leave me alone, Ranma.”

“What’s up?” Ranma said, ignoring the reply and clapping his hand on the other man’s shoulder. “You look upset.”

“Of course I am,” Blaine growled, turning to him. “Nabiki just dumped me.”

“Ah. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Are you? Are you really?”

“Well—”

Blaine shook his head in disgust. “You all are insane, anyway. I just can’t believe she actually went along with it.”

Ranma rubbed his chin with the palm of his hand. “Blaine, can I ask you a question?”

“I guess.”

“Why were you gonna marry Nabiki?”

“Lots of reasons.”

“Like what?”

“Well, she’s smoking hot, for one.”

Ranma raised his eyebrows. “Fair enough. What else?”

“She’s age appropriate. Most of my other girlfriends were a lot younger than me. So this was growth.”

“Okay,” Ranma said slowly, gritting his teeth.

“And my dad was really happy I was gonna marry a Japanese girl.”

Ranma closed his eyes and took a deep breath. This guy was so hard to feel sympathy for. 

“All right,” Ranma asked. “But did you love her?”

Blaine turned his head to the side, pouting. “I didn’t not love her.”

“Not a great basis for a marriage, bud.”

Blaine snorted. “And you loved Akane? Weren’t you set up by your parents?”

“We were,” said Ranma. “But I always loved Akane. She’s the only girl I ever loved.”

“The only one?” Blaine asked in disbelief. “How did you know?”

Ranma hesitated. “I guess a lot of people would say, ‘you just know,’ right? And I kinda did. Just know. But there’s a lot of reasons for why I really love her. She’s smart, and passionate. Strong and kind and brave. Supportive. Tough. Hard-working. Probably the best person I ever met.”

Blaine nodded, finally calming down. “And she is super hot, too.”

Ranma grimaced. “I can’t deny that, but it is inappropriate for you to say.” 

“Yeah,” Blaine sighed. “Sometimes I’m just like that.”

“We all have our faults.”

“Still, you guys shouldn’t have messed with me like that.”

“You know what?” Ranma said. “You’re right. Sorry, bud.”

“I’ll forgive you,” sighed Blaine. “As long as I never have to see any of you ever again.”

Ranma grinned. “You got a deal.”

The two men exchanged their final farewells, and Ranma began his walk back to the carnival. Pausing at the end of the main thoroughfare, he could see Akane, a few stalls down, attempting another game of senbonbiki. He stood in place and watched her for a while, as she showed the kids her process. They all watched her eagerly, their eyes full of admiration and love. 

Ranma smiled, his heart beating a little quicker as he watched Akane’s face light up with laughter and delight when she won. Everything he ever needed or wanted was right there, beaming out of her face like sunshine. 

There was a shooting pain screaming down his leg. Ranma grit his teeth and tried to shake it out. Plastering a smile on, he began to walk slowly over to his family, leaning on his cane a little more than usual. It made him feel like the lightness he felt when he was with Akane was temporary, and that there was a darkness coming to overtake it soon.

No. What had the doctor said? Just lies your brain is telling you. Sometimes the pain causes it. Sometimes it’s something else. 

Everything was gonna be fine.


	24. Friday (Again)

_ Friday _

“So how did things go with Ranma and Akane the other night?”

Ryoga grinned up at his cousin as he sat on the bench in front of Kamapua’a in the lobby. He was flipping through papers on a clipboard, making sure he had brought the right ones. 

She looked up from her tablet and frowned. 

“Oh,” she said. “You were right. They were cowards.”

Ryoga laughed. “See? I told you.”

“They practically ran away from me! And look at me! I am nothing to run away from.”

Ryoga wrinkled his nose. “We’re cousins.”

“I’m just saying objectively,” Akemi muttered. “I’m attractive.”

"Still."

“And how are things with Tendo-san?”

“Nabiki. Just say Nabiki.”

“Not while I’m on the clock. Have you seen her since last night?”

“No,” said Ryoga. “She’s probably pretty irritated. Needs to cool down. I have faith, though.”

Akemi smiled. “Well, she’s over there if you wanna talk to her.”

Ryoga stood up and instantly turned around to look in the direction Akemi had nodded. Nabiki was headed towards the elevator, no doubt going back to her room after brunch.

“Nabiki!” Ryoga yelled and ran over to her, Akemi close behind.

Nabiki sighed. “Ryoga.”

“Hey! How are you?”

“Fine.”

“That’s good.”

“Yup.”

She turned and faced the elevator. Ryoga cleared his throat. 

“You know, I’m headed upstairs myself.”

“Okay.”

“Gotta check on the final repairs for the honeymoon suite.”

Nabiki shrugged, not looking at him. The elevator dinged and the doors opened. Nabiki, Ryoga, and Akemi all stepped on. 

“Oh no,” Akemi said, looking down at her tablet. She put her foot in the elevator doors before they closed. She looked up at Ryoga. “Concrete guy is at the court. I gotta sign for something. Tendo-san, you mind taking him up there? Make sure he doesn’t get lost?”

Nabiki rolled her eyes. “I guess.”

“Great!” 

Akemi stepped off the elevator and back into the lobby, watching to make sure the doors closed. With a sigh, she pulled out her phone and sent a text to Mitsuko. 

Ryoga was going to owe her big time.

* * *

“So how was brunch?”

Ryoga and Nabiki both stood with their backs against the elevator wall. Ryoga held his clipboard in front of him with both hands, nervously tapping it against his thighs. Nabiki kept her eyes on the counter above the elevator telling them what floor they were on. 

“Fine.”

“We really have some good chefs on staff.”

“You do.”

“Glad you enjoyed it.”

“Mmph.”

Ryoga sighed. He wasn’t even getting words from her now. 

“Nabiki, listen—”

“No.”

“What?”

“You don’t have anything to say I want to listen to.”

“Nabiki—”

_ THERRKLUNK.  _

Both of them wavered on their feet, knees slightly buckling, as the elevator came to a sudden halt. The lights flickered for just an instant before coming back on. 

“What the?” Ryoga frowned and looked at the floor counter that was displaying a blinking random assortment of lights and no particular number. 

“Looks like we’re stuck,” sighed Nabiki, having a feeling this was not an accident.

“No,” growled Ryoga. He started slamming the door open button, which gave no response. Then ran his hands over every other button with again, no response. He dropped the clipboard on the ground and put his fingers between the tiny crack in the center of the doors and pulled them open. 

They were right between floors, facing mostly wall, with only a gap of about five inches showing light at the bottom. Ryoga raised one arm, pointer finger out.

“ _Bakusai_ —”

“No!” Nabiki jumped up and grabbed his forearm, pulling it down. “Are you crazy? This is your hotel! You’ll destroy it! Not to mention all that debris will hit me!”

“Sorry,” mumbled Ryoga, shaking her off and looking away. “Wasn’t thinking.”

Nabiki softened her gaze as she looked up at his turned away face.

“Still claustrophobic, huh?”

He shrugged. “No. Yes. Maybe.”

“And let me guess, the kids don’t know, do they?”

“You’re the only one who knows.”

Nabiki blinked. “Still? After all this time?”

“Yeah. I mean, usually if I get stuck somewhere tight I can just—” He mimed poking quickly with his finger over and over again, jabbing at the air. 

With a hiss, the elevator doors slid shut again and Ryoga grimaced, the color draining from his face. Nabiki inhaled deeply, hoping she could keep him calm.

“Look, we’ll just call for help. I’m sure they can get this fixed in no time.” She opened the little metal door on the button panel, where there was a tiny monitor and a speaker underneath. She pressed the red emergency call button and spoke into the speaker. 

“Hello? Hello, is there anyone there?”

The monitor fizzled on and revealed the fuzzy face of Tadashi in black and white.

“Hey! Tendo. You having a problem?”

“It seems our elevator has stopped in its tracks, Tacchan.”

“Oh? Usually a little alarm goes off up here when that happens. Which one are you in?”

“The one that goes up from the main lobby. The one on the left.”

“You know what floor you’re on?”

“Stuck between seven and eight, I think.”

“Sit tight. I’ll come check it out.”

The monitor turned off again and Nabiki turned to look over her shoulder at Ryoga. He was crossing his arms and standing in the back corner, tapping his foot furiously. 

“See?” Nabiki asked, smiling calmly. “We’ll be out of here in no time.”

Ryoga grunted and didn’t reply. Nabiki also decided to step back against the wall, but slid to the ground, taking a seat and crossing her legs. 

Ryoga blinked down at her. “What are you doing?”

“I have a feeling we’ll be here for a while,” she said, smiling. 

Ryoga’s eyebrows wrinkled in the center. “You think so?”

“Yeah, unfortunately. Come on, sit down, before your back starts hurting.”

He nodded and stiffly sat down, his arms crossed, legs straight out in front of him. 

“So,” said Nabiki, after watching Ryoga fidget in silence for nearly two minutes. “You wanna play a game or something?”

“I don’t have any on my phone. Just twitter.”

“You’re a twitter guy, huh?”

“I guess. You don’t have one?”

“No way. I like myself too much.”

Ryoga let out a laugh, which surprised Nabiki. Maybe he could loosen up after all.

“Fair enough. Are you like a facebook girl, then?”

“Nah. Sometimes I look at Akane’s instagram, but I’m not really into social media.”

“You didn’t look at Blaine’s instagram?”

“Well,” said Nabiki, with a tilt of her head, her hair swishing back and forth. “Guess I don’t have to lie and say I do anymore, huh?”

Ryoga smiled again, not quite laughing. “Have you seen Ryoichi and Rantaro’s tiktok?”

“I have not,” Nabiki replied.

“Would you like to?”

“Sure,” she said. “I heard they’re pretty good.”

“They are.” Ryoga finally uncrossed his arms, digging in his pocket for his phone. He pulled it out and looked down at the screen, tapping a few times. “Ah. No signal. Can’t connect.”

“A shame.”

“Well, I have some downloaded,” he said, still tapping on his phone.   


“You do?”

“He's my son. I’m proud of him.”

Nabiki smiled warmly, watching his profile as he stared down at his phone. Him and his dumb beard. And his handsome face, his eyes moving up and down under heavy brows. And all those stupid muscles! 

“Ah. Here we go.”

He smiled and turned to her, and her heart stopped for just a second. Now he had a thick dark beard, wrinkles in the outside corners of his eyes. A pronounced line in the center of his eyebrows. But when he smiled, flashing his teeth, he was the same as when she was twenty years old and standing in front of him under an umbrella in front of a rundown old boarding house.

“Let me see,” Nabiki said softly, trying to hide that she was swallowing a lump in her throat.

Ryoga turned the phone so she could see and she scooted in a little closer next to him. He began playing video after video, occasionally pausing to explain how clever some of the techniques were that the boys were using. 

“They are pretty good,” said Nabiki. “You know I was never a great dancer.”

“I liked dancing with you.”

Nabiki refused to look at his expression and waved her hand dismissively. “You were always a much better dancer than me.”

“That’s true,” Ryoga said, swiping to the next video.

“Wow, Ryoga,” said Nabiki with a stunned grin. “That might be the first time you actually admitted you were better than me at something.”

“Things change. I’m confident now.”

Nabiki raised her eyebrows. “Really?”

“No,” he admitted. “But I am a better dancer than you.”

Nabiki laughed, tilting her head back. “Ah, but you’re not as good as Rantaro.”

“That’s true too. He’s really talented.”

“He’s a good kid.”

Ryoga tucked his phone away, folding his arms over his chest. “You like him?”

“Sure, he’s great,” said Nabiki. “He just wants your miserable ass to be happy.”

Ryoga’s shoulders shook as a low laugh overtook his chest. “He does. I hope he’s happy.”

“I’m sure he is. Ranma and Akane have practically adopted him.”

The smile faded from Ryoga’s face. “But he’s my son.”

“I didn’t mean it like that—”

“They’re not his parents. I am.”

“Ryoga—”

“Am I deadbeat?”

“No,” said Nabiki. “Of course not. Come on. You just said you were confident.”

“I was pretending.”

“That’s how you get confident,” Nabiki said, giving him an encouraging smile. “Pretending. In English, they say <Fake it till you make it.> It means—”

“<I know what it means,>” Ryoga said, in clear, American accented English. 

Nabiki stared back at him, stunned. “When did you—”

“<Learn English? It’s been an ongoing process. I took a lot of lessons. Watched a lot of movies. And I gotta tell ya, my New Yawk accent is really comin’ along.>

Nabiki’s jaw dropped open upon hearing Ryoga begin to sound like a Brooklyn native. 

“How—”

He shrugged. “I was always good at impressions.”

“But when I left, you could barely even introduce yourself in English—”

“I know,” he said. “That’s why I learned.”

“What do you mean?”

“You moved to America,” Ryoga said softly. “And I thought, I should go to America after her. But I didn’t know English. So I learned English. And then I never went to America.”

They were both silent for a while. Nabiki put her hands in her lap and looked down at her fingers.

“Why not?”

“What?”

“Why didn’t you go to America?”

“I would say it was because of Rantaro, but—” Ryoga shook his head. “I was away from him a lot, anyway, huh? It just kept getting longer and longer since you had left. And then your dad died and I was too much of an idiot to find my way to the funeral. And then me and Ranma had a falling out, and I figured you would hate me, too. For hurting him and Akane.”

“I did,” muttered Nabiki. “But only a little.”

“You were right to.”

“Don’t say things like that,” said Nabiki. “You’re always too hard on yourself.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah. That’s how you and Akane are alike.”

Ryoga raised one eyebrow in surprise. “You think I’m like Akane?”

“In all the ways you’re not like Ranma,” Nabiki said, attempting a cheeky grin. “It’s easy to see why the three of you are friends.”

“Me and you were friends,” said Ryoga, straightening his spine.

“We were boyfriend and girlfriend,” she said. “It’s different.”

“Not so much. Dating is like being friends, only with kissing.”

Nabiki laughed. “Is that so?”

“It is,” said Ryoga, a small smile at the corners of his lips. “And me and you were pretty good at it, from what I remember.”

“Oh, I bet you do,” Nabiki said, with a good natured rolling of her eyes. 

_ Hsssssss. _

The elevator doors were forced open and split apart to reveal the gap at the bottom, the top of Tadashi’s head and eyes just barely visible. 

“Hey! How you two doing in there?”

Ryoga threw himself forward, onto his stomach, and scooted to the door on his elbows. 

“Have you fixed it? Can we get out now?”

“Ah—” Tadashi scratched his temple. “I was checking it out, and honestly, it’s above my pay grade.”

Ryoga frowned furiously. “I pay you a lot of money.”

“Told you it was too much,” sighed Nabiki. 

“What I meant was, I do general maintenance. Looks like there’s a serious problem. Had to call in a special repair guy. He’ll be here in a few hours.”

“Hours?!” shrieked Ryoga. “I can’t be in here for hours!”

“No worries, I can bring you a bucket if you need to pee or something.”

“That’s not what I mean!”

“I’ll probably need one soon,” Nabiki said, casually rolling forward and propping her head up on her hands. “Like, real soon.”

“No problem, be back in a jiff.”

“Wait!” Ryoga shouted, but the doors slid shut with another hiss. He let his head fall flat on the floor miserably. “How am I gonna be in here for hours?!”

Nabiki turned to him. “Just don’t watch me pee when he brings the bucket.”

Ryoga groaned but didn’t move. Nabiki shrugged and pulled out her phone, bending one arm so she could lay down fully and rest her head on her elbow as she played Candy Crush with her other hand. There wasn’t much she could say to him when he was like this, but she knew he would appreciate her staying nearby.

It was twenty minutes of Nabiki’s phone making tiny chiming noises with an occasional deep voice booming out the words _tasty_ or _sweet_ before the elevator doors opened again. Ryoga raised his head and Nabiki propped herself up on her arms.

“Here ya go, Tendo,” said Tadashi, sliding a small bucket up through the gap. “And here, toilet paper. An extra gift.”

“Thanks,” she said, taking both items and standing up. “Don’t go anywhere, I’m gonna need you to take this back.”

“What? Gross!”

“I’m not sitting in here for hours with a bucket of pee!” she declared. 

Ryoga lowered his head to the ground again and faced the wall. 

“Fine,” Tadashi muttered.

“Now both of you, turn around. Tadashi, make sure no one out there can see. Also, cover your ears!”

The men obeyed as Nabiki took the bucket into the corner and completed her business. Carefully, she returned the bucket to Tadashi who made a face. 

“I’m not bringing you guys anything to drink,” he said. “Because I am not doing this again.”

“Fine,” snapped Ryoga, rolling over. “Just get the repair guy here.”

“Can’t make his train go faster, boss.”

“Train? Where is this guy coming from?”

“Kyoto,” said Tadashi, grinning. “See ya.”

The doors slid shut again, leaving Nabiki and Ryoga alone once more. Ryoga finally decided to sit up, sighing and crossing his legs. He leaned his hands on his knees, his elbows bent outward. Nabiki sat against the side wall, also with her legs crossed. His gaze remained on the ground, but she could see the arc of his shoulders frozen in a sharp curve. 

“Sorry,” he grumbled.

“For what?”

“That you had to pee in a bucket.”

“Not your fault.”

“I own this place,” said Ryoga. “So it’s just good customer service to apologize.”

“Why did you buy this place?” Nabiki asked, pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around her legs.

“You always said real estate was a good investment,” Ryoga said, waving one hand back and forth, still looking frustrated.

“Yeah, but this is a whole luxury resort. I meant, like, buy an apartment building and charge rent.”

Ryoga sat up straight. “But that would make me a landlord.”

“So?”

“I learned from twitter landlords are bad.”

Nabiki sighed. She had lived in New York for a long time, so she couldn’t really argue that point. “Still, you didn’t have to buy this place.”

“Seemed as good a place as any.”

“A place of relaxation, for the guy who never relaxes,” Nabiki said, smiling coolly. 

“I relax,” Ryoga said, squinting one eye. “I—I walk through nature, all the time.”

“Ryoga.” 

“I relax!” He threw his hands up in the air. “I sleep! For hours! And I—I—I don’t know. I mess around on my phone.”

“Is that relaxing?”

“Not really,” he replied earnestly. “I feel relaxed when I—-forget it.”

“No, tell me your secret of relaxation. I would love to hear it.” Her tone was sarcastic, but her curiosity was genuine. 

Ryoga, as was typical of him, even after all this time, didn’t notice her sarcasm and answered her with honesty. “I feel relaxed when I hang out with Ranma.”

“Really?”

“Now that we don’t fight anymore, yeah. He’s a lot of fun.”

“I guess so,” said Nabiki. “He is always down to pull a shenanigan.” 

“Well, there you go. I relax.” Ryoga straightened his back and tilted his head from side to side, cracking his neck audibly. 

They both sat there quietly for a while, unsure of what to say or do next. Nabiki pulled out her phone to play Candy Crush again, but her battery was low.

“Bah,” she said, shoving it back in her pocket. Letting her legs drop flat to the floor, she looked over at Ryoga. “You wanna play a game?”

“You asked that before.”

“I mean, like a word game.”

“Like I Spy or something?” Ryoga grinned. “I spy with my little eye something brown.”

The elevator walls were all brown. Nabiki pressed her lips together into a tight smile.

“Very funny. I was thinking more like shiritori.”

“Fine,” Ryoga grunted. “You go first.”

“ _Mado._ ”

“ _Dojo_.”

“ _Jousei_.”

“ _Isu_.”

“ _Sushi_.”

“ _Shikabane_.”

“ _Nezumi_.”

“ _Mizu_.”

They continued on as such for quite a long time. The event could definitely contend for the world record of longest shiritori games ever played by two exes trapped in an elevator. Which has happened at least a dozen times since the invention of the elevator, you would be surprised.

Eventually Ryoga fumbled and ended on _kinen_ , losing.

“Yay!” Nabiki said in celebration. “Wanna go again?”

“I don’t think I know any more words.”

“Coward.”

“You’re a bad winner,” said Ryoga. “Too competitive.”

“You’re competitive too!”

“Yeah, but I always lose to you.”

“That’s true,” said Nabiki smugly. “Most people do.”

“Yeah, I’m still irritated by what you did to my tennis court.”

Nabiki frowned. “Didn’t seem that irritated when you were grabbing all over Akane.”

“Oh my god!” Ryoga snapped. “Shut up about Akane!”

“Excuse you?!”

Angrily, Ryoga grabbed onto the railing on the wall of the elevator and climbed to his feet. Nabiki stood up as well, indignant.

“You’re forty-three years old and still jealous of your little sister! It’s ridiculous!”

“Come on, she’s still your weak spot—”

“No!” shouted Ryoga at the top of his lungs. “Are you kidding me? I had a crush on her for like a year when I was a teenager! Me and you were together for five years! We had a whole life together! And you’re still thinking I’m hung up on a girl I never even kissed?! You’re the one I’m hung up on! You’re the one that got away!”

He kicked the door of the elevator in frustration, leaving a noticeable dent. He cursed under his breath as Nabiki stared at him, wide-eyed. 

“And another thing!” he yelled, turning and leaning over her, pointing his finger in her face. “You don’t get to be jealous! You’re the one who—left—me.”

There was a crack on the last word. His face fell. He was out of steam. Shutting his mouth tight, he turned away from Nabiki, refusing to cry. Nabiki screwed up her own face, her mind racing. There had to be something she could say. There was always something to say. 

She said nothing. 

_ Hssssss. _

The elevator doors opened again, once more revealing the top of Tadashi’s face.

“Hey guys! Quick update: the repair guy is here, so if you hear some banging around above you, that’s just him working on the gears or pulleys or whatever, i don’t know how it works.”

Nabiki inhaled and exhaled quickly before crouching down and smiling. “Thank you Tacchan. We appreciate it.”

“No prob.”

She watched the doors close before standing up slowly, afraid to turn around and look at Ryoga. It had been so long since he had yelled at her. So long since anyone had yelled at her like that. No one had ever felt about Nabiki the way he did. The way he still did, somehow, after all this time. Even though they were old and he had a kid and had been divorced and grew a beard. Even though she had moved to America and made a lot of money and gotten engaged to someone else. 

“You know the day you proposed?” Nabiki asked without turning around. There was a very fuzzy, blurry reflection of both of them in the steel elevator doors.

“Yeah.”

“It was the same day work asked me to move to America.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

“I know. I was worried. About moving. Away from my family. Can you believe that?”

“I can.”

“And you asked me to marry you, without even knowing I was going to move. You just asked me! And I freaked out. It was too much. So I kicked you out. But I thought—”

She paused. Closed her eyes. 

“Thought what?” His tone had noticeably softened. As always, he had a deep voice, but it was so soothing when it was full of concern like that.

“I thought that you would come back. Stupid. I know. I was stupid. I said to myself, if I see him again before I move, I’ll stay. I’ll stay here, in Japan, with him. And then you didn’t. You didn’t come back. So I left.”

“You are stupid.”

Nabiki whirled around, blinking tears out of her eyes. “What?”

“I did come back. I had just gotten lost. But you had left the day before. And you hadn’t even told me you were leaving. So I thought, that’s it. She’s really done with me. And then I went out drinking and I ran into Akari and well, that’s that.” Ryoga frowned, crossing his arms, and looked away from her. 

“You got—lost?”

“Of course I did,” he said in exasperation. “I always do.”

“I know!” Nabiki clenched her fists at her sides. Her throat grew thick with tears. It had been years and years since she had cried. Maybe when her dad died. “I know you do! And I didn’t mind, before, because you were still always there when I needed you! But that time—that time you weren’t.”

“I’m sorry—”

“No! There you go, apologizing when you shouldn’t. You were right. I broke up with you. And I did it because I was scared. It meant every part of my life would change all at once. So I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I hate that I hurt you. And I hate that you’re still hurting. I’m sorry.”

She covered her face with her hands. It was no good trying to hold it in now. Tears started flowing and shoulders shook while she tried to catch her breath. She had really hurt the only guy, the only person, who had really known her. Who had accepted her the way she was and supported her. And she had felt the same way about him, and that was the really scary part. 

The scariest part of all was that she still felt that way.

Ryoga was still kind, and strong, and brave. Earnest and depressed and hard-working. Moody and funny and stupid. So, so, stupid! He was so stupid he was just standing there, not even realzing she wanted him to put his arms around her.

She had to be the one to reach out. One hand still covering her eyes, she stretched out her other arm and touched his chest with just the tips of her fingers.

That was all it took. Ryoga instantly moved forward and crushed her against his chest in a giant bear hug. Nabiki curled her hands up against his chest and kept her face hidden, trying hard to stop the tears. Maybe this was why she had come back to Japan. Maybe this is why she kept the kotatsu, even though she had to buy a damn voltage changer to get it to work. Maybe this is why she stayed after her room was flooded. 

No more maybes. This was definitely why. She had wanted to see Ryoga again. And she had known, somehow, that she would. 

“I love you,” she said, her voice muffled in his chest.

“I know,” he said softly, lowering his head so his lips were next to her ear. “I love you too.”

It took a minute of Ryoga just holding her, gently swaying back and forth, before Nabiki was able to compose herself. She pulled back slightly, his arms still around her, and tilted her head straight up. It was always a treat to see Ryoga smiling. To hear him laugh. She tried to make it happen as much as possible. 

This time, he made the move. One of his large hands moved up to tangle in her hair and he brought his head down swiftly, catching her lips in his own. Ryoga was as good at kissing as he always was, and he had always been very, very good. 

Nabiki, however, had gotten better. She moved her hands up his chest and to his face as she lifted herself up on her toes in order to reach him better. His beard was softer than she had expected, and she liked running her fingers over it. It had been a long time since she felt this happy. 

The pair remained so lost in each other that they didn’t notice the click and hiss of the elevator springing back into life. Didn’t notice the hum as it began to ascend upwards. Didn’t even notice the ding as it arrived at their originally intended floor or the swish of the doors as they opened wide. 

“Yes! I am a genius!”

Nabiki and Ryoga finally broke their kiss, arms still around each other, as they turned to the open door in surprised unison to see, well, everyone standing there, grinning victoriously.

Keiko had been the one who had shouted, clenching her tiny fists in jubilation. 

“This is so great! No one can ever doubt my powers again!”

She threw her arms around Mitsuko in a hug. Happy tears in her eyes, Mitsuko said, “We did it! We pulled off our first Parent Trap!”

“First?” asked Rantaro. 

“Now that we know that it works, we’re gonna do this all the time!”

“Did you—” Ryoga knit his eyebrows together. “Did you somehow break the elevator on purpose?”

“It was never broken,” admitted Tadashi. “We just stopped it from the control room.”

“And we could see and hear everything from the monitor!” piped up Ryoichi, beaming. 

“Why?” asked Ryoga, his expression darkening. 

“I mean, you did great with the whole Mothra song, Uncle Ryoga,” said Keiko. “But you couldn’t close the deal. So we helped!”

“You—”

“Sorry,” said Akane sympathetically, placing one hand on Keiko’s shoulder. “We didn’t know you were claustrophobic.”

“All right, they’re in love again, can we go eat now?” asked Ranma, shoving his way through the group and onto the elevator. “I’m starving!”

The rest of the group mumbled agreement and filed on as well, causing Ryoga to finally release Nabiki completely. Akemi quickly bent down and picked up the clipboard Ryoga had dropped earlier and handed it to him. 

“You were in on this too, huh?” Ryoga asked her as he tucked the clipboard under his arm.

“Sure,” said Akemi. “Just wanted you to be happy.”

He frowned for a moment before looking away and muttering, “Thanks.”

Keiko slapped the button for the lobby and the doors closed one more time. The elevator headed downwards without incident. 

Nabiki stared straight ahead, smiling as she slipped her hand into Ryoga’s as they stood next to each other. Ryoga’s frown faded and he burst into a huge, stupid looking grin.

“So you think I’m fun to hang out with,” said Ranma, on Ryoga’s other side, resting both hands on top of his cane.

“Of course I do,” replied Ryoga earnestly. 

“You hear that Keiko?” asked Ranma. “He thinks I’m the fun one.”

“Still won’t take me night swimming,” Keiko mumbled, crossing her arms.

“Night swimming is too dangerous!” said Akane, pushing her glasses up her nose. 

“It’s not that bad,” said Ryoichi.

“When have you gone night swimming?!” Akane demanded.

“Uh—” Ryoichi looked up. Over to Rantaro. Rantaro shrugged. Ryoichi looked back at his mother. “I haven’t?”

“Don’t lie to your mother, Ryoichi—”

Nabiki maintained her smile, letting the boisterous conversation of her family blend together. Ryoga squeezed her hand and she squeezed back.

This was all she needed.


	25. Saturday (Again)

_Saturday_

“So where are we going?”

Ryoga followed along behind Akemi as she led him out of the hotel. His cousin was dressed casually, her hair in a ponytail, shorts and a t-shirt. Usually at work she was so buttoned-up.

“Nabiki wanted it to be a surprise.”

“So it’s not Tendo-san anymore?”

“It’s eight P.M. I’m off the clock.”

Ryoga smiled, sticking his hands in his pockets, not really minding the mystery. After dinner the night before, he and Nabiki had taken a very long walk together, discussing their future. The fact that they even had a future, together, still had Ryoga on cloud nine. Yet she had still opted to spend the night in the room with the twins, and he retired to his own small room behind his office. Still, they had then spent the morning together, or at least what was left of it after she woke up late. 

“Here we go,” Akemi said as they walked up the steps to the terraced restaurant.

“It’s empty,” Ryoga said, looking around at the deserted tables and chairs. “No guests? On a Saturday?”

“Finally acting business-minded, huh?”

Ryoga looked over in the direction of the question to see Nabiki, having called over to him with her hands cupped around her mouth. She dropped her hands and smiled, waving. Ryoga grinned and walked over to where she was standing in front of the small outdoor stage. The weather was warm, the sound of the ocean not too far away, and everything was illuminated by hanging lanterns and string lights.

“Nabiki.”

“Ryoga.”

Neither one of them noticed Akemi smiling and turning away, as they were too busy staring at each other with huge smiles. 

“So what’s this all about?” Ryoga asked. 

“I just thought I would—” Nabiki turned her head away with an unexpected shyness. “Ask you to dance.”

“Dance?” Ryoga stepped a little closer to her, very interested.

“Yeah, I—” She cleared her throat and looked back up with her trademark confidence. She extended one hand and gestured behind her at the stage. “I hired us a private band and everything.”

Ryoga looked behind her over her shoulder to see Mamoru, Ami, and Tadashi all taking the stage. Ami settling behind the drums, giving him a friendly wave, Mamoru with a guitar slung around his neck with a cheeky grin, and Tadashi focusing on adjusting the microphone. 

“I got Tacchan to sing,” said Nabiki with a smile. “Because Mamochan is, you know—”

“I’m terrible!” Mamoru called out cheerfully from the stage. 

“Yes. So—” Nabiki held out her hand. “Would you like to dance?”

Ryoga grinned. “Absolutely.”

He reached out and took her hand. Pulled her in close to him and put his other hand around her waist, at the small of her back.

“I asked them to play my favorite song,” Nabiki said.

Ryoga nodded as the band began to play, then wrinkled his eyebrows. “Wait, isn’t your favorite song—”

Nabiki’s grin grew wider as the deep notes emanated from Mamoru’s guitar.

“Nabiki,” said Ryoga. “This is Godzilla by Blue Oyster Cult.”

“Yeah,” she said. “My favorite song.”

“Not exactly the most romantic thing to dance to.”

“Ryoga, we’ve been over this a million times—”

“Godzilla is a love story,” he said at the same time she did. He gave her another smile. “It’s all right. I can work with this.”

As Tadashi began to sing, Ryoga began to dance with her, treating the song exactly as if it was a slow waltz. They moved easily together over the small dance floor. It really didn’t matter what music was playing. He and Nabiki were still in sync, to each other, at least, if not to the tempo. The only beat that mattered was that of their own hearts.

_(is that too corny? i feel like that’s too corny)_

_(no, no, leave it in. i like it)_

Tadashi boomed out one last “Go, go, Godzilla!” as the song ended. Ryoga and Nabiki paused in place, both smiling like idiots at each other. There was a loud burst of applause and they looked over to see at a nearby table they were accompanied by a familiar audience.

Rantaro. Ranma. Akane. Ryoichi. Mitsuko. Keiko. Akemi. All of them cheering and clapping, some of them sitting on the table itself. 

“Were you guys watching the whole time?” Ryoga asked flatly. 

“Yeah, duh,” said Ranma, grabbing his cane and standing. “It was really quite touching.”

“Thanks.”

“Next song!” shouted Mitsuko. “Next song!”

“I’m not singing anymore,” said Tadashi, right into the microphone.

The twins booed him in unison. 

“Oh! I got stuff for karaoke!” Mamoru said, excited. He took off his guitar and handed it to Tadashi and dashed off stage, pulling equipment out from underneath. “Ami, help me!”

“I’m a drummer, not a roadie,” Ami said, as she stood up from behind the drums.

Mamoru shot a glare at Nabiki back over his shoulder. “You were a bad influence on her.”

“Or a good influence,” said Nabiki, as Ami joined her and gave her a hug. 

“I’ll help,” offered Rantaro, causing Ryoichi to chime in with a “Me too.”

The two boys and Mamoru managed to get out the right equipment and set up a little screen with a projector for the lyrics. Mamoru handed the group a catalog of available songs and they all huddled over it at the table eagerly. Ryoichi and Rantaro joined them as Mamoru tested the equipment. 

“I wanna sing,” said Ranma.

“No way,” said Ryoichi.

“Why not?” asked Rantaro.

“All he likes is dad rock, like The National, or The Pillows.”

“The Pillows aren’t dad rock,” muttered Ranma.

“Eh,” said Rantaro, shrugging.

“Ooh, what about this one?” Keiko said, pointing at a song.

Rantaro made a face. “The Jonas Brothers?”

“You’re gonna talk crap about the Jonas Brothers?” Keiko snorted. “All right, my crush on you is over.”

Nabiki pulled the book away from all of them. “Ah. Here. This one. Me and Akane will do it.”

Akane looked at the song she was pointing at. “What?! No way! That’s a Whitney Houston song!”

“Come on, we used to sing it together all the time!”

“When we were kids! In your bedroom!”

“You can do it, Akane, you’re a great singer!”

“You sing to us all the time, Mom,” said Mitsuko.

“That’s different,” mumbled Akane. “That’s private.”

“I’ll sing the hard parts,” said Nabiki. “Just like when we were kids.”

Akane knitted her eyebrows together above her glasses. “I don’t know—”

“Hey.”

Akane looked up as Ranma put one of his large, strong hands on her shoulder. 

“You can do it, Akane. It’s just us.”

He smiled, and when he smiled at her like that, she felt like she could do anything.

“All right,” she said softly, causing the kids to cheer. 

Nabiki grinned and showed the catalog to Mamoru. “All right, Mamochan, cue it up!”

The sisters took the stage. Mamoru handed them each a microphone as the little projector lit up the screen with the opening lyrics, although neither Nabiki nor Akane needed them. Akane closed her eyes, clutching the microphone with both hands. She tried to steady her breathing and not shake. It wasn’t really a crowd. Not really. It was family. Friends. She could do it. 

She opened her eyes, and the music began. Nabiki sang first and it wasn’t long before everyone else began to dance. It was an upbeat song, and much easier to dance to than Godzilla. Ryoichi and Rantaro especially were the best dancers, but Ryoga and Akemi weren’t slouches either. Ami and Tadashi got a good groove going. Ranma bounced mostly in place, lifting Keiko’s hand and helping her do a spin before she went to dance with her sister. 

He looked up as Akane began her part of the song. They met eyes and he smiled as wide as he could as her voice slowly grew more confident. She hit the high note and everyone cheered even as she pulled away, blushing and laughing before Nabiki continued singing along with everyone else. 

Wouldn’t it be nice if that was where the story ended? Ranma, with his wife, children, and best friend, all happy and dancing and singing at the top of their lungs? With simple little chirons, summing up what happens to everyone. Something like, “Keiko became an experimental physicist. She solved the Theory of Everything by age 33.” Which is true, that does happen.

But there is more to tell. Ranma’s story is not quite complete. 

Not yet.


	26. Family Dinner

_ When they were 16 _

Ranma was unhappy.

His entire life, his father had told him that one day, Ranma would be in charge of the Tendo dojo, the training hall of his old friend.

What he had never mentioned, until today, was that he would have to marry one of his old friend’s daughters to do it. 

And then it had started to rain. How was he supposed to meet any potential fiancees as a girl? Not that he was terribly interested in getting married, anyway. Not until he was old, at least. Girls only got in the way of your training. And they cried all the time. He wanted no part of any of that. 

But his father dragged him to his old friend’s house anyway. They had made a scene, and he barely had gotten a look at any of the daughters, except the angry one that kept groping him, pissed he was a girl. He was pissed he was a girl, too. 

And then one of the other girls, the one with long hair wearing a gi, put a hand on his shoulder. He turned to her as she spoke.

“I’m Akane. Do you wanna be friends?”

She smiled.

And for the first and last time in his life, Ranma Saotome was in love.

* * *

_ When they were 42 _

“You’re really gonna take my best employee?” Ranma moaned, standing in the door of the guest room, watching Ryoga and Rantaro pack. 

“Yeah,” replied Ryoga, neatly rolling up a shirt. “We need some quality father son time. And he should probably go see his mother.”

“It’s true,” said Rantaro, zipping up the top of his pack. “She’s been asking me to come home for a while.”

“But who’s gonna do dishes?” Ranma whined.

“Hiroshi,” replied Ryoga as he stood up, hefting his pack onto one shoulder. He pushed past Ranma and into the hallway. Ranma trudged after him, his cane thumping on the floor. 

“He won’t do them!”

“Then hire some other teenager,” said Ryoga, walking down the stairs. 

“And what about Nabiki?” asked Ranma from the top step. “Where is she gonna stay?”

“Here,” said Nabiki, coming in the front door, carrying suitcases. She and Ryoga met on the bottom landing and shared a quick kiss. 

“Whaddaya mean here?” Ranma asked, finally making his own way down, pausing a couple steps up. 

“Thought I’d let Blaine ride out the lease on our temporary rental himself,” she replied, setting her luggage down. “All my stuff was still in storage anyway.”

“And did you ask Akane about this?”

Nabiki grinned. “Of course not.”

“Hmmph,” grunted Ranma. 

“It’s okay, I’ll stay in the guest room,” said Nabiki. “I don’t think Mitsuko would be willing to give up my old room, huh?”

“Absolutely not!” Mitsuko shouted unseen, supposedly from her own open door, shortly followed by the sound of it slamming shut.

“Rantaro!” Ryoga called. “Come on!”

The boy appeared at the top of the stairs and ran hurriedly down. Ranma happened to notice the blue and white arm of a plush anime robot cat sticking ever so slightly out of Rantaro’s pack. He grinned but didn’t say anything. 

“Sorry, Dad, I forgot something,” he muttered quietly. 

“That’s all right. You got everything now?”

Rantaro nodded. 

“Okay, say goodbye.”

Rantaro turned to Ranma first, bowing his head. “Bye. Um, Boss?”

“Bye, kid. This is unpaid vacation, by the way.”

Rantaro nodded again and turned to Nabiki. “Bye, um—what am I supposed to call my dad’s girlfriend?”

“Whatever you want,” she replied, smiling.

“Goodbye, then, um. Nabiki.

“Goodbye, Rantaro. I’ll see you soon.” She gave him a warm hug, causing him to blush as he returned it with one arm. Then she hugged Ryoga, although this one was much different in intent and follow through. 

“I love you,” Ryoga said wistfully as they ended their kiss and pulled apart.

“I love you, too.”

“I love you too!” Ranma called, grinning from the stairs and waving. 

“Love you,” Ryoga and Rantaro grumbled in unison, and then left through the door. 

Nabiki and Ranma were left alone in the entryway. She smirked up at him. 

“You wanna help me with my luggage?”

“Oh, I would, but, oh no—” Ranma leaned all his weight on the banister and made a pained face. “My leg! It hurts so bad today! I just need to go lay down!”

Nabiki rolled her eyes. “Fine, I can handle it.”

He grinned and straightened up. “Knew you could.”

She picked up her suitcases and started up the stairs. When she reached the same step Ranma was still on, she paused. Didn’t look at him, but said quietly, “Does Akane know?”

“Know what?”

“How much it really hurts?”

Ranma swallowed the lump in his throat. Forced a big smile on his face. “Don’t know what you’re talking about, Nabiki. I was just pretending to get out of helping you with your luggage.”

“Of course.”

She didn’t say anything else and finished making her way up the stairs. Once Ranma was sure she was all the way in the guest room, he let his smile drop. He fell to his ass and sat on the stairs for a long time, throwing his cane to the ground. 

He was fine. Just fine.

* * *

"So now Nabiki gets to stay in the guestroom?"

Nodoka set the last clean pan on the side of the sink in the back of the bakery and wiped her hands dry with a towel.

"Yeah," Ranma sighed, running cool water from the faucet over his head and shrinking down into his girl form.

"Anyone but me is welcome in the house, I suppose."

"Mom!" Ranma rolled his eyes and slapped his hand on the edge of the metal sink. "What's wrong? You don't like the apartment?"

"The apartment is fine."

"It should be more than fine. This way you have your own space, constantly smell fresh cookies, and see your favorite son everyday." Ranma gave her an ingratiating smirk.

"You are my favorite son," Nodoka acknowledged with a small smile. "But I want to spend more time with the kids."

"I get that, Mom. But they're getting older. They're busy with school and all kinds of stuff. Ryoichi is almost out of the house."

"Which is why I want to spend time with them now, while I still can," Nodoka said. "Before they're too cool to hang out with their gran."

"The good news for you is none of my kids are cool," Ranma replied. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the sink. "Well, maybe Mitsuko is, a little."

Nodoka laughed. "I think you're right."

Ranma sighed. "You wanna come over for dinner tonight?"

"Shouldn't you ask Akane first?"

"I should. I will. She'll say yes."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Oh yeah," said Ranma as he turned to leave the dishwashing area. "Big time."

* * *

"Absolutely not."

Akane sat up on the kitchen floor, where she had been scrubbing down the baseboards under the cabinets. She yanked the scarf off of her head and glared at Ranma.

"Aw, come on, Akane," he said, leaning against the kitchen table, cane on his other hand. He had changed back into his male form once home, since he found it easier to sweet talk Akane this way. "I'll cook."

"You always cook," she replied, throwing the rag she was holding into the nearby bucket full of soapy water.

"And I intend to keep up the pattern."

Akane sighed. "Ranma—"

"She just misses the kids, that's all."

"She was just here on Sunday."

"And now it's Friday. That's an entirely different day."

Akane stood, picking up the bucket by its handle. "Fine."

Ranma grinned. "Really?"

"You already told her yes, didn't you?"

"Not—exactly—"

"It's fine. It's about time I had a talk with her anyway." Akane set her jaw and moved past Ranma to leave the kitchen.

Ranma let her go without further discussion. Tapping his fingers on the table, he thought about what she had just said. A talk. Ooh boy. And with Nabiki here to rile them both up, well—

That bottle of rum was still under the sink.

* * *

"Everything looks great, Ranma," Nodoka said as he and Akane finished setting the last of the food on the table.

"Of course it does," Ranma said, smiling. He took a seat, not noticing Akane gently holding his forearm as he sank all the way to the ground. "I'm an excellent cook."

"Humble too," commented Nabiki, helping herself to rice. 

"Modesty is for chumps," said Keiko, putting sugar into her tea. "Right, Dad?"

Ranma laughed. "I've been known to say that."

"It wouldn't kill you to instill a little humility in them, Ranma," Nodoka chided.

"For what? I have the best kids in the world."

"Do you not think we're the best kids in the world, Gran?" Mitsuko asked, her voice taking on a false quiver.

Nodoka raised one eyebrow. "I'm not going to fall for it, Mitsuko-chan."

Mitsuko's face immediately resumed its neutral expression and she shrugged one shoulder. "Fine."

"See?" said Ranma. "Their self confidence is off the charts."

"I am pretty confident," said Ryoichi.

"What's eight times six?" Mitsuko asked him.

"What's what now?"

"Aren't you worried their egos will grow out of control?" Nodoka asked, turning her attention back to Ranma. "You know, like—"

She hesitated. Ranma furrowed his eyebrows.

"Like what?"

"Oh, not like anything—"

"You mean like me, don't you, Mom?"

"You do have a big head," Nabiki said, taking a bite of fish. "Metaphorically, not like Ryoichi's."

Ryoichi frowned and patted the sides of his head. The panda next to him held up a sign that said _Not as big as mine, at least._

"What's wrong with believing in myself?" Ranma demanded.

"There's nothing wrong with it," said Nodoka. "But arrogance can be off putting."

"So you think I'm off putting?"

"Ranma, you're being defensive—"

"Of course I am! I have a big ego, remember?"

"Big and fragile," said Nabiki, continuing to eat.

"Really, there's nothing wrong with a bit of self reflection every once in a while," said Nodoka. "That's all I'm saying."

"I've reflected! I've reflected myself so hard! I've been to therapy, even!"

"You are way too worked up about this!"

"I thought you'd come over here and start a fight with Akane, not me," Ranma grumbled, crossing his arms.

"Akane hasn't said a single word since she sat down!"

"That's true," Akane mused, holding her mug of tea.

"Don't suck up," Ranma hissed at her.

Nabiki smiled brightly as she scooped herself out some more rice. "I love family dinner."

* * *

Nabiki had promised Ryoga she would try to stop smoking while he was gone. But, she had promised him that twenty years ago too. Hadn’t worked then, when she had more energy and more willpower, was definitely not going to work now. So after dinner, she stuck a pack of cigarettes in her back pocket and headed outside towards her favorite spot to smoke, behind the dojo. 

It was a pleasant night, clear skies, easy temperature. Family dinner had been fun. Watching Ranma’s mom pick on Ranma instead of Akane for once had been refreshing. And seeing Ranma get flustered and overreact was one of the joys of being his big sister. 

There was a plume of smoke already coming from around the corner of the dojo as Nabiki approached. Oh? Perhaps Ryoichi was rebelling against his parents, finally. Still, it wasn’t a good habit and she was a responsible aunt.

“Aha!” Nabiki shouted, jumping quickly around the corner.

And was very shocked to see a surprised Akane jump to her feet and put her hands behind her back.

“Akane!” Nabiki raised her eyebrows. “Are you smoking?”

“No,” Akane coughed, a cloud of smoke exiting her mouth.

Nabiki sniffed. “Are you smoking—marijuana?!”

Akane made a skeptical face. “Does that sound like me?”

“Akane!”

“Okay,” said Akane, squinting one eye. She brought her hands out from behind her back, showing one clearly holding a joint. “You caught me. Big whoop.”

“Where did you even get marijuana?!”

“Toshiko-sensei,” mumbled Akane. “She gave it to me so I can talk to Ranma’s mom without being a bitch.”

Nabiki crossed her arms. “You’re not a bitch, Akane.”

Akane made another face before taking another puff. She held it in for a second and then let it all out. “I mean—”

“You’re not.”

“There’s a lot of commenters on instagram who would strongly disagree,” said Akane, before erupting into closed mouth, snorting giggles. 

Nabiki rolled her eyes. “This is the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever done.”

“Well that can’t possibly be true.” Akane grinned and hit the joint again.

“What isn’t true?”

This was Nodoka coming around the corner. Nabiki froze, eyes wide, while Akane devolved into a coughing fit and attempted to put her hands behind her back again. 

“Nothing, Auntie,” said Nabiki, attempting to usher Nodoka away. Nodoka shook her off and raised one eyebrow in Akane’s direction.

“Akane, are you smoking?”

Akane said nothing, her mouth traveling up her face in an upside down u-curve. 

Nodoka sniffed. “Marijuana?”

Akane started shaking her head frantically, looking to Nabiki for help. Unfortunately, her sister was also at a loss, and simply returned the look of fear with her arms out. 

Nodoka sighed and held out her hand. “Let me see it.”

Cringing, Akane slowly brought the joint out and handed it to her mother-in-law. Nodoka sighed again and then, to the astonishment of both Akane and Nabiki, lifted it to her lips and inhaled deeply. She held in the breath for a long moment while Akane’s jaw dropped open in shock. 

“That’s pretty good,” said Nodoka, exhaling. “Where did you get this?”

“Uh—Toshiko,” Akane replied, stunned.

“Auntie!” Nabiki exclaimed, eyes wide.

“What?” asked Nodoka. “I used to smoke all the time in America.”

“You did?!”

“Sure. Everybody does there.”

“I didn’t!” Nabiki replied indignantly.

Nodoka took another quick hit. “Well, dear, I love you to death, but sometimes you can be a bit uptight.”

“Me? Uptight?!” Nabiki screeched as Nodoka nodded and Akane descended into giggles. Nabiki grimaced and threw her hands in the air. “Fine! I’ll just leave you two potheads alone! Have fun!”

“Okay,” replied Akane cheerfully as her sister stormed off towards the house. She and Nodoka made eye contact and they both started furiously giggling. 

“Ah, I thought I’d never get to do this again, once we moved back to Japan,” Nodoka said wistfully. Still holding the joint, she leaned back against the dojo wall and slowly slid down into a sitting position, legs straight out in front of her. She started inhaling again, the end of the joint glowing a bright orange. 

Akane cautiously took a seat next to her, crossing her legs. “Glad I could help?”

Nodoka laughed. “Akane, what are you even doing with this? It doesn’t seem like you. You’re usually so responsible.”

“I know,” said Akane. “I just wanted to be, you know, chill. When I talked to you.”

“Talked to me? About what?”

“Ah, you know,” Akane said, waving one hand back and forth while using the other to adjust her glasses. “Everything. All of it. Our whole lives!”

Nodoka exhaled a large amount of smoke. “Akane, I gotta tell you that is a lot and I am already high. Can you boil it down a little?”

“I just wanna know why you hate me so much.”

Nodoka took one last puff and stubbed out the rest in the dirt. She let out one more deep breath. “Obviously, I don’t hate you.”

“You don’t like me.”

“I wouldn’t say that, either.”

“What would you say?”

Nodoka leaned back, tilting her head towards the sky. “You make me sad.”

“What?” Akane asked. “How? I’m sorry!”

Nodoka laughed. “You apologize too much.”

“Ranma says that, too.”

“He’s right,” said Nodoka. “But I’ll tell you how.”

Akane pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs. “I’m listening.”

“Firstly, you know you’re a better mother than me.”

“I wouldn’t—”

“Oh, of course you are. You didn’t let your husband take your children away. Your kids are all smart, and good-natured, and yes, very confident,” Nodoka said with a smile. “They’re great little people.”

“Ranma’s great,” said Akane. “And you’re his mom.”

“He’s not great because of me,” said Nodoka. “In spite of me, maybe. Because of you, maybe.”

“Me?”

“You two are such a good match. You make each other better. Without even trying.”

Akane rubbed the toe of her shoe into the dirt. She felt like a kid. “So that’s it? You don’t like me because I’m a good mom?”

“No,” said Nodoka. “You rejected me.”

“What do you mean?”

“You remember, after your father died? I tried. I reached out to you, and you pushed me away. You didn’t need me, or even want me.”

“I didn’t think about it,” whispered Akane.

“I know you didn’t,” said Nodoka. “And I knew it was awful and selfish of me to feel that way. So I didn’t say anything. And that’s what causes resentment, isn’t it? Even when it isn’t fair.”

“That's a very mature thing to say."

“Oh, I get very insightful when I smoke,” Nodoka said, her head rocking back and forth. Her smile took on a melancholy air. “You still call me Auntie.”

Akane turned her head to look at her. “I’m just being respectful.”

“I just always wanted you to call me Mom.”

There was a lump in Akane’s chest. “It's hard for me to do that.”

“I know. I didn’t make it any easier on you, did I?”

Akane shook her head. She used the heel of her palm to push tears from the corner of her eye. “I’m also really stubborn.”

Nodoka laughed. “So am I.”

“Can we start over? Since you moved back to Japan and all?”

“I would like that, Akane.”

Overcome with emotion, Akane threw her arms around Nodoka, hugging her tight. Nodoka smiled and returned the embrace, cradling Akane to her chest. 

“Do you want to move in?” Akane whispered.

“No,” said Nodoka. “I actually like living above the bakery. It always smells like cookies. And wow, could I go for some cookies right now.”

“I bet we have some in the kitchen. Ranma’s always bringing them home for the kids.”

Nodoka was silent for a moment. When she spoke again, her voice was soft.

“Akane,” she whispered. “His leg is worse, isn’t it?”

Akane buried her face into her arm. “He won’t talk about it. He would never admit it. But yes. You can tell, can’t you?”

“Yes.”

“He’s so grumpy because of it. I don’t know what to do.”

“Just take care of him, Akane. As best you can.”

“I always do.”

“All right,” Nodoka said, patting her on the back. “Let’s go look for those cookies.”


	27. Sons and Daughters

_ When they were 26 _

Akane sat on the floor of the dojo, rubbing her stomach. Ranma was running through one last kata with Mirai, who had picked it up as quickly as she did everything. The girl had spent most of her childhood in the dojo already, and was easily Ranma’s best student. Akane was ready to pop, with the baby due any minute, and unfortunately couldn’t join in the training. Still, she enjoyed watching Ranma teach and Mirai learn. 

“An opening!”

Ranma had looked away for only a second, but it was enough time for Mirai to sweep his right leg, sending him off balance. He teetered, but didn’t fall over, taking a long moment before he was able to balance on both legs again. Once he was back on two feet, he laughed loudly and patted Mirai on the head, ruffling her ponytail. 

“All right, we’re done for the day, Mirai-chan.”

“How did I do, Uncle Ranma?”

“Great as ever,” he replied, grinning. 

“Mirai-chan?” 

Kasumi had come through the dojo door, holding a chubby two year old Kenshi on her hip. 

“Mom!” Mirai ran over and hugged her mother around the legs, beaming. “I’m hungry!”

Kasumi laughed. “Well, good thing I came to get you before dinner. Did you have a good time?”

“Of course! Me and Uncle Ranma always do!”

Ranma walked over and stood next to Akane, both of them smiling at Kasumi. “She is a fast learner, Kasumi. I don’t know how much left I have to teach her.”

“She certainly spends more time here than she does at home,” replied Kasumi. 

“That’s because I’m going to be the best martial artist in the world!” shouted Mirai. 

“Maybe,” said Akane. “Maybe you’ll be even better than Ranma one day.”

“No way,” said Ranma, crossing his arms. “No one will ever be a better martial artist than me.”

Mirai pointed one finger at him defiantly. “We’ll see about that!”

The adults laughed at her deadly serious bravado. But she meant it. She was ready to challenge any adult in the world, and beat them.

“All right, Mirai-chan, let’s go,” said her mother. Ranma and Akane bid them goodbye, and then Ranma turned to Akane, offering his hands.

“You ready?”

“Mmm,” she replied, reaching up. Gripping firmly, he pulled her to her feet as she carefully struggled to become upright. Once she was standing, she smoothed out her maternity dress and looked up at Ranma. “Thanks.”

“Sure, I knew you couldn’t do it alone.”

“Well—oh!”

Concern surged through Ranma’s body, and he instinctively put his hands on his wife’s shoulders. “Akane! What’s wrong?”

She looked up at him, her eyes wide. “I think my water just broke.”

They both looked down at the floor, where there was a small puddle at Akane’s feet. They both looked back up at each other. 

“That means the baby is coming,” Ranma whispered.

“Pretty soon, yeah,” Akane whispered back.

Ranma scooped her up in his arms and started carrying her out of the dojo as fast as he could. 

“Wait, wait, Ranma—”

He ignored her protests, barreling through the house, igniting the curiosity of their parents, and then out the front door, running past Kasumi and Mirai who were still on the front walkway.

“Wait, Ranma!”

Akane grabbed onto the edges of the gates with all her strength and finally managed to stop Ranma in his tracks. 

“What is it?”

“Put me down!” she shouted, still holding onto the gates.

Carefully, he set her on her feet, but didn’t take his hands off her shoulders. “The baby is coming!”

“Not right this second!”

Kasumi walked a little closer to them, while Genma, Soun, and Nodoka came from the front door. Kasumi shifted the weight of Kenshi on her hip. “Akane-chan? Are you in labor?”

Akane smiled and put one hand on her stomach. “My water broke.”

Kasumi returned the smile and looked at Ranma. “It’s okay. Sometimes labor doesn’t start for hours after the water breaks.”

“Really?” he asked, his eyes darting back and forth between Akane and Kasumi. 

“Really,” said Soun, walking up behind his daughter. “It was almost a whole day before Nabiki was born after her mother’s water broke.”

Ranma breathed in deeply before letting out a slow exhale. “If you say so.”

“It’s true, Ranma,” his mother said, joining the group. “The baby doesn’t always come right away.”

Akane patted Ranma’s hand that was still resting on her shoulder. “See? You just need to be—ohh!”

Akane’s eyes grew wide and she bent over, holding her stomach. Everyone moved closer as if to hold her, even Mirai. 

“Akane?” asked Kasumi.

Her little sister looked up at her, eyes big. “I think the baby _is_ coming right now.”

“See?!” shouted Ranma. “I knew it!”

“She just started contractions, that’s all,” said Nodoka, moving to help Akane straighten up. “We really only need to worry when they’re close together.”

“How close?” asked Ranma.

“About five minutes apart or so.”

He frowned. “Well, Akane, let me know when the next one—”

“Ahh!” Akane shouted again, her knees buckling slightly, grasping Ranma’s hand tight. “Next one! Next one!”

“Uh-oh,” said Kasumi softly. 

“All right, we’re going!” shouted Ranma. He moved to pick Akane up again, but she planted her feet firmly. 

“No! Just call a cab or someth—AHH!”

Another contraction interrupted what she was about to say, and she squeezed Ranma’s hand again, hard enough to hurt, although he was too full of adrenaline to notice. Kasumi handed Kenshi to Nodoka and put her arm around her sister. 

“It’s too late for a cab. Come on, let’s go inside. Father, will you call an ambulance?”

“An ambulance?” Soun asked, panicked tears falling from his eyes.

“For after.”

“After what?” Akane asked as Kasumi led her towards the house. 

“After the birth.”

“What?! At home?! Here?!”

“It’s not ideal, obviously, but—”

“I wanted an epidural!” Akane yelled, on the verge of tears. 

“It’s too late, Akane, come on.”

“But I—AHHH!” She shouted again, wincing through another contraction. She took a deep breath and steadied herself once it had passed. Meekly, she turned to Kasumi and said, “Okay.”

“Neat,” said Mirai, as she followed the adults into the house. “I’m gonna be an aunt!”

Genma raised one eyebrow as he tailed behind the others with her. “You mean cousin.”

“What?” she asked in disappointment. “I thought I was gonna be the baby’s aunt!”

Genma scratched his head. “That’s not how it works.”

After a lot of tears, from everyone, and screaming, mostly from Akane, little Ryoichi was born on the floor of the Tendo dojo two minutes before the ambulance arrived. When Ranma held his son for the first time, he felt love and hope and warmth and all the good things they tell you that you’ll feel when you become a parent.

And also, he felt terrified.

* * *

_ When they were 42 _

"Slumber party!"

Keiko and Mitsuko practically threw themselves down the stairs, both carrying bulging backpacks and sleeping bags. Keiko's bore an image of Patrick Star, while Mitsuko's featured Anna and Elsa. They started jumping up and down in the entryway around Ranma as he grinned down at them encouragingly. Akane wearily trudged into the room, a cardigan wrapped around her shoulders.

"Now are you sure you two have everything?" she asked her daughters.

"Yes, Mom," Keiko replied, rolling her eyes.

"Toothbrush? Pillow? Clean socks?"

"Yes, Mom!" both twins cried in exasperation. 

Akane looked up at her husband. "Thank you for taking them. This paperwork shouldn't take me too long to finish."

"No problem," said Ranma. "Where's Ryoichi, though?"

"The literature club is having a lock-in tonight."

"What the hell is a lock-in?" Ranma asked, baffled.

"They stay in the school overnight. Locking themselves in."

"They stay in school overnight?!" Ranma asked. He shook his head. "I knew we were going to have nerdy kids."

"Ranma—"

"What? It's good, it means they're smarter than me," he said with a wink. He lifted his hand to slide open the front door. "Okay, girls, let's go!"

As the door opened he came face to face with Kasumi and Tofu, standing on the front step. 

_ (it's not really a step, is it? it's flat.) _

_ (don't nitpick!) _

Tofu's hand was in position to ring the doorbell, but with the door now open he dropped it to his side and smiled.

"Ah, Ranma! Headed out?"

"Uh, yeah," Ranma said, moving aside to make room for Kasumi and Tofu to enter and take off their shoes. "What're you guys doing here?"

"I wanted to talk to Akane," Kasumi said, with her ever gentle smile.

"Me?" asked Akane. "About what?"

"Is Nabiki here?" Kasumi asked, not answering her sister's question.

"Uh, yeah, she's in the living room, why?"

"Great, we can all talk together," Kasumi said, moving past Akane and out of the entryway. 

"Wait—"

Ranma and Tofu watched their wives disappear down the hallway without so much as a goodbye. Keiko tugged on Ranma's hand. 

"Dad, let's goooo."

"All right, all right," he replied. "Don’t be so impatient.”

"I'll walk with you, if you don't mind," said Tofu.

“Sure.”

The sun was only just beginning to set as they walked the girls to their friend’s house. Parts of the city were headed home for the night, while others were just beginning. They passed dozens of people, exchanging greetings and bits of small talk with those that they knew. 

“Sensei, I feel like my knee is out of the socket—”

“Come to the clinic tomorrow, I’ll look at it.”

“Ranma, I want a cake that looks like Sailor Moon’s crystal thingy for my daughter’s birthday—”

“When’s her birthday?”

“Day after tomorrow—”

“I need more time than that!”

“Oi, Mitsuko, here’s that three thousand yen I owe you—”

“Great, we’re all settled up. Please keep me in mind for any future transactions.”

“Mitsuko-chan, when did you get business cards?”

“Aunt Nabiki got them for me.”

“I’m gonna have a talk with her—”

The last traces of sunlight were still at the edge of the sky as the group finally arrived at their destination. A decent two story house on the corner of a mildly busy street. There were loud noises coming from inside as Ranma knocked on the door. Keiko and Mitsuko bounced excitedly in place, clutching their sleeping bags to their chest. 

The door swung open and the noises from inside became unmuffled. High pitched screams, several children singing Let It Go in unison, and glass breaking emanated from the brightly lit house behind the weary looking young man who stood at the front door. 

“Hello, welcome—”

“MITSUKO! KEIKO! YOU CAME!”

A tiny girl with short hair yelled sharply from the stairs behind him. The twins pushed past their father and into the house, meeting the girl for a hug in the foyer and immediately talking over each other in high pitched screams.

The man turned back to Ranma and Tofu and gave them a tired smile. “That’s my daughter, Emiko. She thinks your daughters are her best friends, sensei.”

Tofu laughed. “They’re not my daughters—”

“Not you,” said the man. He nodded towards Ranma. “Him.”

“Me?” Ranma blinked, pointing one finger back at himself. “I’m no sensei—”

“You used to be my teacher.” Emiko’s father gave Ranma a grin.

Ranma rested both hands on top of his cane as he regarded the other man closely. Recognition dawned on him slowly, and when it did, it felt heavy, an anchor around his neck.

“Yusuke?” Ranma asked in a whisper.

The other man winked. “That’s me.”

“You’re all grown up.”

“You’re only six years older than me,” laughed Yusuke. “But I’m glad to see you again. You changed my life.”

Ranma raised his eyebrows. “Did I?” 

“Sure. I’m a professional martial artist. I won the national judo championship for the last two years in a row. And now I teach Anything Goes to kids at the rec center.”

“You teach Anything Goes?” Ranma asked, even though he was finding it hard to speak.

“Yeah, it’s—”

“DAD! DAAAAAAD! THE POPCORN IS BURNING!!!!”

At the sound of the screech from deep inside the house, Yusuke winced. “Sorry, I gotta go take care of that.”

The front door slammed shut as Yusuke disappeared behind it, leaving Ranma and Tofu alone on the front step. Ranma frowned and let out a deep sigh. Then he turned and started to walk back out onto the sidewalk, Tofu at his side. 

“My kids didn’t even say goodbye to me,” Ranma grumbled.

“They were just excited,” said Tofu. He put his hands behind his back and titled his head to look up at the darkening sky. “Interesting that he’s teaching Anything Goes, don’t you think?”

“I guess,” Ranma muttered. “I’ll tell Akane, she’ll be excited.”

“You’re not?” asked Tofu.

Ranma set his mouth in a tight line. “Doesn’t matter to me.”

They continued on for a block or so without speaking any more. As they turned a corner, Ranma let out a deep breath and sank down onto a nearby bench. Curious, Tofu sat next to him.

“How’s the leg, Ranma?”

Ranma put both hands on the handle of his cane and held it upright, balancing it on the ground. “Fine.”

“That bad, huh?”

“What are you talking about? I said it’s fine.”

“Usually, though, when I ask, you say, ‘it’s a mess and it hurts but what can you do?’ So if you’re saying it’s fine, you must be in bad shape.” Tofu turned to Ranma and gave him a comforting smile.

Ranma let out a brief chuckle. “You know me that well, eh?”

“I’ve known you since you were a kid. You haven’t changed that much.”

“Well,” said Ranma with a friendly shrug. “I am better looking.”

Tofu kept his smile up. “Seriously, though, are you taking painkillers or anything?”

Ranma waved one hand back and forth and looked away. “It’s fine.”

“But if you’re in pain—”

“I tried them, before. Didn’t like them. Made me feel weird. And they interacted badly with my anxiety meds. Wasn’t worth it.” Ranma kept his eyes downcast, looking at the sidewalk.

“Fair enough,” said Tofu, patting his hands on his lap. He regarded Ranma silently for a moment. "Stand up."

"Eh? Why?"

"Just stand up."

Confused, Ranma lumbered to his feet with a grunt, bearing a large amount of weight on his cane. Tofu leaned forward and smiled.

"Turn around."

Ranma did as instructed, still perplexed. Then he felt three points of sharp pressure in his back, Tofu’s fingers pressing into his muscles quickly. A wave of relief washed over Ranma, his joints feeling a bit looser and flexible. He turned back to the doctor and grinned.

“Hey, that felt pretty all right!”

“It’s not a permanent solution,” said Tofu, now standing up himself. “And it won’t take all your pain away. But temporary relief is better than no relief.”

“True enough,” said Ranma, giving his cane a quick tap on the ground. “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” Tofu replied. “Now how about—”

“Where the heck am I now?!”

Ranma closed his eyes and shook his head, smiling. “I know that stupid voice.”

He pivoted in place and saw exactly what he was expecting to see, Ryoga Hibiki, at the far end of the street, scratching his head while staring down at his phone, huge pack on his back. Ryoga looked up at the sky, seemed to consider something, then looked back down at his phone, his shoulders tight. 

“Ryoga!” Ranma called out, raising one hand above his head. “What are you doing here?”

“Ranma?” Ryoga looked over at the sound of his name, then frowned. “Oh, is this Nerima?”

“Obviously,” Ranma said as he and Tofu began to walk over. “Where’s Rantaro?”

“With his mom,” said Ryoga. He raised one eyebrow, thinking. “At least I hope he is.”

“Ryoga-kun, have you ever thought about maybe using an Uber or something to get around?” asked Tofu, placing his hands behind his back politely. 

“Oh, I’ve tried,” scoffed Ryoga. “But then I go out to where they say they are, but they’re never there, but then when I message them, they say I’m not where I’m supposed to be. Waste of time.”

“I feel like we’ve done this joke already,” said Ranma, sighing and slinging an arm around Ryoga’s shoulders. “You wanna go get a drink?”

Ryoga put his phone in his pocket. “Yeah, all right. I could use one. Akari was pissed at me.”

Ranma grinned. “All right. You in, sensei?”

“Sure,” said the doctor. “I think Kasumi wanted some time alone with her sisters anyway.”

“Yeah, I wanted to ask you what’s that all about?” Ranma began marching down the street, his arm still around Ryoga. Tofu easily kept pace with them. The sun had set fully, but it was a weekend, and there were still plenty of other people out and about on the street.

Tofu scratched his chin. “Well—”

* * *

“Why do you two always leave me out of everything?”

Kasumi sat across the living room table from her sisters, her hands clasped together in her lap. Akane pushed her glasses up her nose and looked at Nabiki next to her, sharing a confused expression. She cleared her throat and looked back at Kasumi. 

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“You two went on a big family vacation, and you didn’t even ask me,” Kasumi replied. Her eyebrows knit together above the bridge of her nose. “Why not?”

“Well, it was less of a vacation and more of a parent trap,” Nabiki said, attempting an apologetic smile.

“I know,” said Kasumi. “Did neither of you think maybe I wanted to do a parent trap?”

Akane wrinkled her nose, unsure of how to respond. “Well—”

“No,” said Nabiki, although she was also flummoxed. “Did you want to do a parent trap?”

“You guys are always having adventures and leaving me out of things,” said Kasumi. “And all my kids are grown now, and out of the house. What am I supposed to do?”

“Doesn’t Mirai still live there?” asked Akane. 

“Only sometimes,” replied Kasumi. She sighed and put her arms on the table, bending her head down and hiding her face. “In between all her training trips. Even my kids have more adventures than me.”

“Is this some sort of midlife crisis?” Nabiki asked in alarm. 

“Maybe,” Kasumi mumbled into her forearms. “Am I that old?”

Akane tapped her chin with one finger. “Well—”

Nabiki elbowed her gently and shot her a look. Akane took a deep breath and started again.

“Kasumi, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you felt left out. We should've asked you to come with us.” Akane crossed her arms and thought for a long moment. “Listen, if you’re feeling lonely, you’re always welcome here. The kids love you. And I can guarantee they’ll give you plenty of excitement.”

“They are pretty ridiculous,” agreed Nabiki. 

Kasumi finally looked up and laughed. Sitting up straight, she gave her sisters a warm smile. “Oh, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t make you feel guilty. I just feel like I’ve been a mom my whole life. It’s not your fault you don’t see me as a sister.”

“Are you kidding?” asked Nabiki. “Remember that time you got a karaoke machine for your twelfth birthday and all three of us fought over it so much that I ended up yanking out a chunk of your hair?”

Kasumi pressed her lips together, holding in a giggle. “I do.”

“And Dad had to buy two extra microphones for it, so we could all sing together,” added Akane cheerfully. “But the three of us could only ever agree on the one song so that’s all we sang over and over and he got so sick of it he put it in the attic and told us we could never use it again.”

“We really drove that guy crazy, didn’t we?” Nabiki mused with a smirk. 

The three sisters remained silent for a moment. Although they were all smiling, there was a distinct air of melancholy in the room. For years, there had been an empty seat at the table, but none of them had ever forgotten who used to be there. 

“I wonder,” said Kasumi slowly, tapping her fingers on the table. “Do you think it’s still up there?”

All three of them looked back and forth at each other, breaking into wide grins. With a chorus of giggles, they stood and ran out of the room and up the stairs, down to the end of the second floor hallway. Kasumi, being the tallest, was able to reach up and pull down the ladder to the attic, the wooden stairs creaking as they unfolded. She was the first to climb up into the dark rectangular opening in the ceiling, Nabiki and Akane not far behind. 

“It’s so dark up here,” murmured Akane, pulling her phone out of her pocket. She switched on the flashlight, looking around for the chain attached to the roof beams that connected to the singular light bulb that was supposed to illuminate the attic. Even while stretching up on her toes, her fingertips only just barely brushed the bottom of the chain, the metal clinking softly against the glass of the bulb. She moaned in distress. “Ah, I’m so short!”

“Here,” said Kasumi gently, reaching up with ease. The light clicked softly as it switched on, bathing the attic in a soft yellow glow. Boxes were stacked from floor to ceiling with only narrow gaps between them. Along with the boxes were discarded sports equipment, nursery furniture, and an old kimono stand. 

“Where do you think he put it?” Nabiki asked, resting her hands on her hips. 

“Dunno,” replied Akane, carefully starting to squeeze between the rows of boxes. “But it’s gotta be here somewhere.”

The attic was large, spanning the length of and width of the three main bedrooms and bending around the corner over the guest bedroom as well, creating an L shape. There wasn’t much room available to walk, so the sisters went in different directions, making slow progress. 

“Ah, look at this,” Akane said as she laid her hands upon an old, old trophy won by her grandfather in a martial arts tournament. Nabiki popped her head over the stack of boxes she was combing through to look over.

“What’s that?”

“A trophy for the same tournament I won, only sixty years after he did.” Akane ran her fingers over the nameplate, clearing the layer of dust. Kenun Tendo. She sighed and looked around at the boxes that reached to the rafters. Stuffed to the brim with five generations of Tendo history. Sniffling from the dust, she wrinkled her nose, causing her glasses to lift up her face. “Should I not have changed my name to Saotome?”

“Little too late to put the cap back on that bottle,” Nabiki said as she moved a box to the side in order to clear a path. 

“You know,” said Akane, setting the trophy back on top of the stack she had retrieved it from. “Ranma offered to change his name to Tendo, when we first got married.”

“Really?” Nabiki asked in surprise. She slid another box out of her way. “That guy was gonna take his wife’s name?”

“Yeah,” Akane replied with a nostalgic smile. “He suggested it, even.”

“Then why did you change yours?” Kasumi asked, unseen from her corner of the attic. 

“Oh, lots of reasons. It felt like I was supposed to. And I just loved him so much.”

“Yuck,” Nabiki said, making a face and sticking out her tongue.

“And also—” Akane hesitated, resting her hands on top of another box. “I felt like Ranma didn’t have much, besides his name, you know? I had this big house, and the dojo, and you guys, and all this history. But Ranma just had his dad and his mom, and barely anything else. I didn’t want him to lose his name.”

“But you lost yours,” Nabiki said, bending over to shove at an old trunk.

“I don’t think of it like that,” Akane said with a smile. “I’ve been Akane Saotome longer than I was Akane Tendo. It feels like I gained something.”

“If the law was different, would you have kept your name?” Nabiki asked, having given up on the search and sat down by the now open trunk. 

Akane tilted her head slightly and looked up at the ceiling for a moment before replying. “Probably.”

“Oh! Look at this!” Kasumi called out. She made her way through the boxes over to them, trying not to stumble. Akane met her and Nabiki in front of the trunk and all three sat on the floor to look at what Kasumi held in her hands. 

A framed picture of their parents, at their wedding. Their mother in a traditional white kimono, their father in his black haori. At each corner of the picture frame, there was a small imprint of their family crest, a circle containing a stylized bow and arrow pointing to the sky. Kasumi, Nabiki and Akane sat in a row, their backs against the trunk, the younger sisters leaning their heads on Kasumi’s shoulders. 

“I miss him so much,” Akane said in a small voice.

“Me too,” said Kasumi. “And Mother.”

“Daddy looks just like Toya here, doesn’t he?” asked Nabiki. 

“He really does,” answered Kasumi. Although they couldn’t see themselves, all three sisters bore identical sad smiles. Many years had passed since they were alone together like this. Nabiki had been across the sea, Kasumi and Akane had three children each, and the typical pressures and responsibilities of adulthood had caused them to drift in and out of each other’s lives. Yet at that moment it felt the same exact way it did when they were all children, huddled together in Kasumi’s bed after their mother died. 

Nabiki looked up, determined to not let her sisters see any tears that may or may not have been forming in her eyes. She noticed a familiar shape in the far corner and broke into a huge grin. 

“Look!”

Eagerly, she stood up, Kasumi and Akane close behind. They all began moving boxes out of the way in excitement, although Kasumi gently set their parents’ wedding photo down on the trunk first. After all the clutter was pushed aside, they paused for a moment, having finally found what they were searching for. 

The karaoke machine. 

It was a beast of a thing, a big black square with a speaker, all covered in dust. Akane easily lifted it up, with Kasumi grabbing the box of tapes, although they really only needed the one. Nabiki gathered up the microphones and they headed back downstairs.

“I hope this thing still works,” muttered Nabiki, sorting out the cords for the microphone splitter. 

“It has to,” said Akane, wiping dust off of the top with a rag. “It’s not like we broke it or anything.”

“I’m sure it will work fine,” said Kasumi, digging through the box she had brought down. “Ah, here we go!”

She took the tape out of its gold case and stuck it into the front of the machine. Before hitting play, they tested out the microphones one by one, all of them in surprisingly good shape. Kasumi pressed the big play button down, and the speaker emitted a rusty, squealing hiss. The sisters winced simultaneously, trying not to feel too disappointed.

Then there was a whirring noise, and the backing track began to play in earnest. 

“Ah, go back, go back!” shouted Akane. Nabiki dove and pressed the rewind button, holding it for a few seconds before releasing it. 

“Okay, ready?” she asked as they all picked up their microphones and took their places in front of the living room table..

“Ready!” Akane and Kasumi called out cheerfully.

Nabiki pressed play.

And they began to sing.

* * *

“So Kasumi feels left out, huh?” Ranma asked as he made his way down the street with Tofu and Ryoga. “Guess I can’t blame her.”

“Me either,” said Tofu. “You two leave me out of all your adventures as well.”

“To be fair, I left Ryoga out for fifteen years,” replied Ranma.

“It’s true,” said Ryoga. “I was extremely lonely.”

“See?” said Ranma, grinning at his brother-in-law. “It’s nothing personal.”

“I suppose,” said Tofu with a friendly sigh. 

“Well, if they can have a girls night, we can have a boys night,” said Ranma. He paused in front of a familiar building with a bright light over the door, an open sign flashing in the window. Ranma gestured to the door of the bar, his grin growing wider. “How about it?”

“Sure,” said Ryoga. “Let’s go.”

“Now that’s what I was hoping to hear,” said Ranma, pulling the door open to usher the other men inside. “And you, sensei?”

Tofu hesitated. “Am I too old to go out drinking?”

“Pah, you’re never too old. Last time your mom was in town I watched her chug two bottles of sake and she still was able to knock me out of the big hip circle thing three times.”

“To be fair, you do have a bum leg,” commented Ryoga, as they entered the bar. 

“My point stands,” said Ranma as the three of them slid into a corner booth. He waved over at the bar, where Akito spotted them and rolled his eyes. Nonetheless, the bartender smiled and approached their table, notepad in hand. 

“Ranma.”

“Akito! How’s business?”

“Good as ever. So let me guess—” He pointed at each man in turn. “Beer for you, scotch for you, and, hmm, water for sensei?”

“Sounds good—” started Ryoga.

“Screw that, it’s boys night!” exclaimed Ranma. “We need shots.”

Akito raised his eyebrows, smiling. “Shots of what?”

“Whatever you think is best.”

Akito made a note on his pad. “Tequila it is, then.”

"Excellent," replied Ranma, shooting a couple of finger guns.

"You know, I've never had tequila," said Tofu as Akito walked away.

"Don't worry, you're about to be in for a good time," said Ranma cheerfully.

"It's been a while for me, too," said Ryoga. "Nowadays I mostly drink—"

"Yeah, yeah, your 1592 scotch straight from the sheep's butt or whatever," said Ranma. "We get it, you're rich."

"Not everyone is content with whatever beer is cheapest at the 7-11—"

"Well they should be—"

Tofu smiled to himself as Ranma and Ryoga continued arguing. It was good to see Ranma so energetic, even though he and his friend were bickering over nothing. It felt like old times, although Tofu was a little wary of falling too easily into the whims of nostalgia. Being aware of the past was always helpful, but becoming imprisoned there was hindering. 

"Here we go," said Akito, returning with a tray. He set it on their table. A full bottle of tequila, three shot glasses, a bowl of sliced up limes, and a salt shaker. "Enjoy your night, boys."

He gave them a quick nod and left their table. Ranma let out a low whistle as he held up the bottle of tequila.

"Whoo, this is nice stuff." He raised an eyebrow at Ryoga. "You're paying for this, right?"

"I guess," Ryoga replied, licking his hand so the salt would stick. "But would it kill you to be a little less cheap sometimes?"

"Probably," said Ranma, taking the salt from him. He turned to Tofu. "Now look, drinking tequila is a process. There's steps."

Tofu pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "I see."

Ranma walked him through taking one shot, which all three men drank in unison. 

"Ooh," Ranma said, his glass clinking on the table as he set it down. "Smooth."

One more shot. Then another.

"You know what I love?" Ranma asked loudly, wiping his mouth as he set his glass down for the fourth time. 

"Tequila?" Tofu asked, only one eye open.

"My wife!" Ranma yelled, throwing his head back. "I love my wife so much! She's so pretty, and so smart!"

"I love my wife," Tofu said, putting one hand on Ranma's shoulder. "She's also pretty! And smart!"

"Because they're sisters!" declared Ranma in semi-drunken realization.

"Hey, I love the third sister!" cried Ryoga from the other side of Ranma. "Nabiki is really pretty and smart too!"

Ranma nodded, folding his arms over his chest. "Those Tendo sisters, huh? Just something about 'em."

"Soun Tendo made some good ones," Tofu added. He poured them out another round and they prepared their salt and limes. Holding his glass aloft, he made a toast. "To Soun!"

"Soun!" echoed Ranma and Ryoga. Three three of them quickly clinked their glasses together before taking their fifth shot.

"To Kasumi!"

"Kasumi!"

Another shot.

"To Nabiki!"

"Nabiki!"

Another shot.

"To Akane!"

"Akane!"

One last shot, and the bottle was empty, and the table littered with bitten up lime slices. Ranma turned in the booth, reclining against Ryoga and putting his legs on Tofu's lap.

"Barkeep!" he shouted across the restaurant to Akito. "Another bottle, if you please."

"I think you all have had enough," said Akito, walking over to their table. He began to gather up the debris scattered across three tabletop. "You want me to call Akane?"

"No, don't do that!" Ranma cried. "She's doing stuff! With her sisters!"

"I love her sister," said Tofu, patting Ranma's calves in his lap.

"I love her sister too," sighed Ryoga, tilting the side of his head against the top of Ranma's.

Akito shook his head slightly, smiling. "I thought this was a boy's night. All you've done is talk about girls."

"Oh, I'm sorry, is it a crime to love my wife?" Ranma asked defensively. "To love her so much I just want to cry when I think about how beautiful she is? Is that a crime?! Arrest me, then! Arrest me for loving too much!"

Ranma's voice was cracking with inebriated tears. Akito laughed.

"All right, Romeo, I'll get you some water."

"Thank you," said Ranma, watching Akito walk back to the bar. He looked up out of the top corners of his eyes at Ryoga. "You know, I played Romeo in a school play, once."

"I know, Ranma," sighed Ryoga. "I know."

* * *

“ _Ooh, baby do you know what that’s worth—_ ”

“Stop, Akane! We wore out the tape!” Nabiki moaned. It was true. After singing the same song fifteen times in a row, the decades old cassette had finally worn out, the karaoke machine hissing and squeaking with its death throes. 

“We can still sing,” Akane said, lifting one of Ranma’s beers to her lips. The sisters had decided to take a cooler full of them up to the balcony to drink and look at the stars. Akane had even dragged Ryoichi’s desk chair from his room so they could take turns sitting. 

“Oh, my voice is tired,” said Kasumi. “But I did have a lot of fun tonight. Thank you guys.”

“Anytime,” said Nabiki. “And I promise, next time there’s a parent trap, you can absolutely participate.”

Kasumi laughed. “Who would we be parent trapping?”

“Ranma and Akane, probably,” Nabiki replied.

“No way,” said Akane. “We’re never gonna get divorced. We’ll have to parent trap Kasumi and Tofu.”

“You think they’re more likely to get divorced?”

“More likely than me and Ranma,” said Akane, sinking down onto the chair. 

“I have to agree,” said Kasumi. 

“What, really?” asked Nabiki in surprise. “Are you and Tofu having trouble?”

“Oh, no,” said Kasumi. “Not at all. But Akane and Ranma are—well—”

“In love,” asserted Akane, starting on her second beer. 

“Codependent,” said Kasumi. 

“Pssh, not that much,” Akane muttered as she took a sip. 

“Regardless, they’ll never break up.” Kasumi smiled as she opened her own beer. 

Akane pointed with one finger at Nabiki. “And don’t you forget it.”

The three sisters continued on in this way, swapping stories and gradually growing more and more tipsy. Even Kasumi, who, after raising three children, had learned how to enjoy a quiet night.

“Man, I don’t know what I’m going to do,” Nabiki sighed as she opened her second beer. “Ryoga has a kid! A son!”

“Rantaro’s a good kid,” said Akane. “You got to miss out on all the hard parts too.”

“That’s true,” said Kasumi. “Probably no more Spongebob birthday parties.”

“Spongebob?” asked Nabiki.

“Between the two of us and our six kids—”

“And Ukyo’s children—” 

“And Shampoo’s twelve, we’ve had literally hundreds of Spongebob birthday parties,” sighed Akane.

“It’s still on! It’s still on television, Nabiki,” said Kasumi, already deep into her third beer.

“Oh my god I know,” groaned Akane. “We’ll never be free.”

“Well, I guess Rantaro is a little old for that,” said Nabiki.

“Kenshi had a Spongebob party last year for his eighteenth,” said Kasumi sadly.

“Yeah, but it was ironic,” said Akane. “Kids today do everything ironically.”

“I guess I could do an ironic Spongebob party,” said Nabiki. “I don’t know how to bond with a kid.”

“He’s sixteen,” said Akane. “Fifteen. Sixteen? Fifteen.”

“Aren’t you the one that’s good at math?” asked Nabiki.

“We’re all supposed to be good at math,” Akane replied, rolling her eyes. “You need to drink more beer. Catch up to my level.”

Akane burped and pulled out a fourth bottle. 

“I’ve only talked to him like three times,” said Nabiki. “He’s so quiet. I don’t know what he’s thinking.”

“Aw,” said Kasumi. “You want him to like you.”

“Of course I do,” said Nabiki, finally finishing her second beer. “He’s Ryoga’s pride and joy.”

“So sweet,” murmured Akane over the mouth of her beer bottle. “You’re gonna be a great stepmom, Nabiki.”

“You’re assuming a lot,” Nabiki grumbled, blushing. 

Kasumi put an arm around her little sister and smiled. “I missed you so much, you know that?”

Nabiki looked down at the floor of the balcony. “I missed you guys too.”

“Aw!” Akane threw her arms around both of them, squeezing tight. “This is the best day ever!”

“No Spongebob!” moaned Kasumi, pulling away from the group.

“Sorry, it’s just part of me now—”

“Oi! Tendo girls!”

All three women stepped up to the railing of the balcony, resting their arms on the wood as they leaned down to look at where the voice had come from. 

Tofu, Ryoga, and Ranma stood in the yard below the balcony, all in a line, looking up at the women and smiling. 

“Only one of us is still a Tendo!” shouted Nabiki.

“Bah!” shouted Ranma. “You’re all Tendo, through and through.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” Kasumi asked in drunken defensiveness.

“Not a thing!” shouted Tofu, cupping his hands around his mouth. “We wouldn’t have you any other way!”

“Ryoga, listen!” Nabiki said, as she chugged down her third beer. “When we get married, you have to change your name to Tendo!”

“Huh? When we—”

“Why?” asked Akane. 

“Are you kidding? There’s no way I’m going to be Nabiki Hibiki!”

“Nabiki!” Ryoga yelled.

“What?!”

“You said ‘when we get married.’”

“So?”

“So,” Ryoga said, grinning. “I think you just proposed.”

“Ooooh,” said Ranma and Tofu, elbowing Ryoga in the stomach playfully. 

“She likes you!” said Tofu, throwing one arm around Ryoga’s neck. 

Nabiki blushed, being hugged on either side by her giggling sisters. 

“No I didn’t!”

“Then what did you mean?”

“I just—I meant—” Nabiki closed her mouth. Set her jaw. Shook her head. “Do you wanna get married?”

Ryoga’s grin spread across his whole face. “Yeah.”

A chorus of cheers from the men and women. Ranma and Tofu jumped up and down, hugging Ryoga and clapping him on the back. Akane and Kasumi laughed and hugged and squeezed Nabiki, their celebrations echoing into the night. 

Akane released her sister and started clapping her hands in rhythm. “Kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss—”

She was joined by Kasumi clapping and chanting next to her, and Tofu and Ranma doing the same on the ground. Nabiki grinned and Ryoga hopped up to the balcony in one easy leap. Grabbing hold of the railing, he leaned forward and kissed his fiancee.

The others shouted again, throwing their hands up happily, as Ryoga and Nabiki pulled apart, smiling. 

“Why do you smell like tequila?” Nabiki asked with a smirk.

“Because I’ve had a lot of it,” he replied with a sloppy grin. “But I still wanna get married.”

“Would you really be Ryoga Tendo?”

“Sure,” said Ryoga. “My dad took my mom’s name, after all.”

They kissed again, this time Nabiki grabbing hold of the front of his shirt and pulling him over the balcony railing. All the way through the sliding door and inside the house. Akane and Kasumi watched them go, disappearing down the hallway, hopefully into the guest room. They laughed together, and then Akane turned back towards the railing, leaning over to look down at Ranma. 

“He’s gonna be my brother for real this time!” Ranma shouted up at her. 

Akane giggled. “I guess so.”

Impulsively, she climbed over the railing and jumped down to the ground, somersaulting in midair and landing confidently on her feet, even in her tipsy state.

“Akane, what are you doing?!” Ranma asked in a panic, reaching out to her with the hand that wasn’t holding his cane. 

“Just wanted to prove I can make it on my own.” She spread her feet hip width in the grass and looked up at Kasumi, sticking out her tongue. “See?! Not codependent.”

“What?” asked Ranma, still drunk and confused.

“Oh, nothing,” Akane said, linking arms with him to lead him back to the house. “Did you have a good time with the boys?”

“We got really drunk and then we realized we love you girls so much,” Ranma said, a sob clearly stuck in his throat. “And I just wanted to see you again.”

“Ranma,” Akane said in a loving tone, holding his arm tighter. “You’re such a sap.”

Tofu was left alone in the yard, watching them go. He looked up at Kasumi, the last Tendo sister on the balcony.

“What about you, dear?” he called up to his wife. “Did you have fun?”

“I did,” she said. Grinning, she had a sudden idea. “Do you think you could catch me?”

“Huh?”

Tofu didn’t have much longer to react, as Kasumi climbed over the railing like Akane had done, leaping down into his arms. Tofu, even though he was over fifty now, and drunker than he had been in twenty years, still caught his wife with little effort, his arms under her in a bridal carry. Kasumi smiled brightly at him and he felt as speechless as he did decades ago when they first met. 

She put her arms around his neck and kissed him sweetly, as she had a million times before. When they parted, she let one hand rest on his cheek and tilted her forehead to touch his.

"I love you, do you know that?" she asked.

"I should hope so," he replied, his glasses clearing up. "We've been married a long time."

Kasumi giggled. "And it's been a pretty big adventure, hasn't it?"

He grinned and replied with a good natured sigh, "Well, raising Mirai certainly was."

Kasumi laughed again. Tofu shifted his weight in her arms with a little bounce and carried her into the house. Even though she had spent her life on the periphery of her sisters’ wackiness, she had still had a life and love of her own. Her family was happy, and for Kasumi, that was more than enough.


	28. Like, Like-Like

_ When they were 42 _

Keiko slid down the stair banister, whistling to herself. Things had been quiet lately around the house, especially now that her Aunt Nabiki and Uncle Ryoga were gone, having moved in together somewhere downtown. Mom was getting along with Gran, Rantaro was still at his mom’s house, her sister was always studying, her brother was always at kendo, and Dad was following his normal routine of working, cooking, and exercise. 

She was bored. Something had to happen soon, or she was going to go crazy.

_ Ding dong. _

Keiko grinned as she hopped down from the bottom of the banister right as the doorbell rang. Visitors usually made things exciting. She slid the front door open and gasped in delight as their arrival stepped inside.

“Rantaro!” she squealed, jumping up and clinging to his arm. “You’re home! Finally!”

Rantaro frowned. “This isn’t my home—”

“Yes it is, shut up,” said Keiko, hugging him tighter. She turned her head to yell at the household. “Hey everybody! Rantaro’s home!”

Mitsuko instantly appeared, thundering down the stairs, jumping and holding onto Rantaro’s neck. “Rantaro! I missed you!”

“Uh—”

“Oh, Rantaro-kun,” said Akane, as she stepped into the hallway, wiping her hands with a towel. She gave the boy a warm smile and adjusted her glasses. “It’s so good to see you again.”

“Um—” Rantaro shifted his weight so the twins were more evenly distributed as they embraced him. “Is my dad here?”

“Sorry, no, he left a couple days ago with Nabiki,” Akane said. “They rented an apartment downtown.”

“Oh, yeah,” mumbled Rantaro. “I didn’t think he had moved yet.”

“Rantaro!” This was Ranma, emerging from the back bedroom. He grabbed Rantaro in one arm around the neck, causing him to tilt to the side. Ranma was just as excited as the girls, and hugged his namesake excitedly. “I’m so glad you’re back! You can do the dishes again! My mom is driving me nuts!”

Rantaro tried to breathe, moving his face so it wasn’t crammed into the crook of Ranma’s elbow. The twins were still hanging off of him, even as their father pulled him in the opposite direction. He really should have expected this kind of greeting. They clearly considered him family, and he knew how much the Saotomes loved their family. 

“All right, you guys, let him go,” said Akane. “He can barely breathe!”

Grumbling, Ranma and the twins released Rantaro, who straightened his back, attempting to catch his breath. 

“I’m happy you’re here, Rantaro,” said Keiko, beaming up at him. “Glad to have things get exciting again.”

“And I’m glad to have you do the dishes again,” mused Ranma. 

“I’m just glad to have you here in general,” said Mitsuko.

“Aw,” said Akane.

Rantaro blushed, looking away from all of them. “Thanks, I guess.”

“No problem, bud,” Ranma said, clapping him on the back. “Now I gotta get started on dinner. Who wants to help?”

“I will,” said Mitsuko, while Keiko said nothing. Ranma raised one eyebrow. 

“Keiko?”

“What? I don’t want to help,” she said, crossing her arms. “Cooking is dumb.”

“It’s an important skill to learn,” said Ranma. “You have to feed yourself.”

“I can just be like Mom and marry some guy who cooks for me all the time,” Keiko replied. 

Akane frowned and rolled her eyes, but said nothing.

“No way,” said Ranma. “None of my children are going to rely on some man. Come on, you can at least watch.”

Pouting, Keiko followed Ranma and Mitsuko out of the hallway towards the kitchen. Rantaro bent over to pick up his rucksack, which had fallen off of his back when Keiko had launched herself at him. Akane noticed that he was still looking around as he stood back up, clearly searching for something. Or someone.

“Are you looking for Ryoichi?” she asked softly.

Rantaro’s spine stiffened. He cleared his throat nervously. “Well, he’s usually here, so, um—”

“He had a kendo meet today,” said Akane. “A big one. He should be home for dinner.”

“Kendo. Right.” Rantaro nodded sharply, his face settling into a stony expression. 

“Why don’t you go put your things away?” Akane asked. “You can stay as long as you like. You’re always welcome here.”

“Thanks,” Rantaro mumbled and headed upstairs. Akane kept an eye on him as he turned down the hallway, and to her surprise, in the right direction. 

Well. Anything can happen.

* * *

“Excellent performance as always, Saotome,” said Kuno as he and Ryoichi changed in the locker room after their meet. “Certainly even better than mine.”

Ryoichi laughed. “What are you talking about? You won every match you were in.”

Kuno packed away his gear, hesitating with his hand on his locker door. “There were a few moments where I came close to receiving a strike. It was quite harrowing.”

“Whatever you say, bud,” Ryoichi replied, tightening the laces on his sneaker. His phone pinged, and he pulled it out of his pocket. A text from Mitsuko.

_ >RANTARO IS HOME!!!!!!!!!!!!!! _

Accompanied by a picture of Rantaro, straight faced, being squished between Mitsuko and Keiko for a poorly cropped selfie.

“Good news?” asked Kuno.

Ryoichi looked up in surprise. “Huh?”

“You were smiling quite a bit,” said Kuno. “Looking happier than I’ve ever seen you. And that’s quite an accomplishment, seeing as how you’re usually in a good mood.”

“Ah, well—” Ryoichi scratched his chin, unable to stop grinning. “Rantaro is home, is all.”

“Rantaro,” repeated Kuno. “Your friend.”

“Yeah, one of my best friends,” Ryoichi replied cheerfully. 

Kuno stepped in close to Ryoichi, staring down at him, his eyebrows low. Ryoichi found himself blushing with the other boy so close to him. 

“Saotome,” Kuno said. “Surely you’re aware of your own feelings?”

“I—uh—huh?” Ryoichi placed his hands over his stomach, which was starting to churn. 

“For Rantaro,” said Kuno. “It clearly isn’t just friendship.”

“Um—” Ryoichi had no idea what to say. He wasn’t entirely sure what was happening. 

“Believe it or not, I am not jealous,” said Kuno.

“You’re not?” Ryoichi squeaked. For a moment, he thought he had gotten himself entangled in some type of love triangle. But that kind of thing only happened in books. His stomach was still rolling around, though.

“No,” said Kuno. And then he smiled. Ryoichi felt the tension flow out of his shoulders, the waves in his stomach calming. “But you and I, we are friends, aren’t we?”

“Of course,” Ryoichi said, regaining his grip on his charisma. 

“Then, as your friend, I am curious. Why is Rantaro only your friend and not something more? Why haven’t you told him about your feelings?”

A violent tsunami crescendoed in Ryoichi’s stomach. He forced down the hot vomit he could feel rising in his esophagus. He took a step backward and his legs hit the bench behind him, causing him to lose his balance and teeter awkwardly. Kuno reached out and grabbed Ryoichi’s forearm, preventing him from falling. Ryoichi paused, eyes wide, as he looked up at Kuno’s concerned face. There was a faint pink tinge of a blush across the other boy’s cheeks.

Ohhhh noooo. He _was_ in a love triangle. 

“I have to go!” Ryoichi shouted, way too loudly. Hopping over the bench, he grabbed his duffel bag in one smooth motion before bolting out of the locker room as fast as possible. Barreled out of the school, down street after street, pumping his arms as he ran home. This did not help settle his stomach whatsoever. 

“Saotome!”

Ryoichi looked back over his shoulder to see Kuno only a block behind him, running intensely, his form as sharp as a time travelling killer robot. Ryoichi grimaced and tried to run even faster, but the other boy’s legs were longer and Ryoichi had a typhoon tearing apart his stomach, hindering his usually unmatchable speed. 

Just in time, Ryoichi leaped straight up in the air as Kuno dove to grapple him around the waist. Ryoichi backflipped over the other boy’s head, landing behind Kuno on his feet. Kuno spun in place to face him and Ryoichi hopped up onto the fence, trying to put distance between them. 

“Saotome!”

Ryoichi’s stomach couldn’t take any more running. He squatted down on top of the fence, resting his elbows on his knees. Kuno glared up at him, crossing his arms. 

“You know,” Kuno said, catching his breath. “I never figured you for a coward.”

“I think I’ve been very clear that stuff like this terrifies me!” Ryoichi responded, his voice coming out in a stilted shout. 

“Stuff like what?”

“You know—” Ryoichi swallowed the lump in his throat. “Romantic stuff.”

“Still, though. You were able to ask me out on a date even though you were afraid.”

“That’s different!”

“How so?"

Ryoichi looked to the side, avoiding eye contact. “I knew you liked me.”

“Is that the source of your apprehension?” Kuno asked. “You don’t believe Rantaro likes you?”

Ryoichi shrugged. “I mean, I dunno. We’ve spent a lot of time together. And we even shared a hotel room together! But he hasn’t—I dunno. I don’t even know if he likes boys.”

“Have you asked him?”

“You can’t just ask people stuff like that!” Ryoichi shouted, spreading his arms wide. 

Kuno tilted his head to the side. “Why not?”

“Because!” Ryoichi yelled, his arms flailing. “Because! Because you can’t just ask stuff like that!”

Kuno sighed. “All right. Obviously I’m not going to forcibly compel you to confess to Rantaro. Nonetheless, I think you should.”

Ryoichi looked at him from the corner of his eye. “But don’t you . . . “

“Don’t I what?”

“I just thought—” Ryoichi rubbed the back of his neck. “I thought you still liked me.”

Kuno blinked. Smiled. Took a step up to the fence, looking Ryoichi directly in the eyes. Ryoichi held his breath.

“I do,” said Kuno. “But I think we make better friends, don’t you?”

A relieved smile crossed Ryoichi’s face as he exhaled. With a nod, he said, “Absolutely!”

Kuno took another step closer and poked at Ryoichi’s knee with one finger. “You’re open.”

There was just enough force in the poke to send Ryoichi reeling backwards. Grimacing, he futilely attempted to regain his balance, pushing his arms through the air, grasping at nothing. With a splash, he hit the water in the canal below, disappearing underneath the surface for a second. 

Gasping for breath, he emerged, completely soaked. Kuno was leaning his arms against the fence, staring down at him and grinning. Ryoichi scowled.

“You know I think I liked you better before I taught you how to have a sense of humor!”

Kuno laughed. He stuck one hand in his pocket and used his other to give Ryoichi a wave. “See you Monday, Saotome.”

“See you Monday,” Ryoichi grumbled, pulling himself out of the water. Kuno walked away while Ryoichi attempted to wring out his jacket. It suddenly occurred to him his phone was in his pocket. Frantically he wriggled it out of his wet jeans and swiped at the screen. It lit up brightly and Ryoichi sighed gratefully.

His screen was still open on his text messages.

_ >RANTARO IS HOME!!!!!!!!!!!!!! _

Smiling, Ryoichi stood up and began to head home to see his family.

And Rantaro.

* * *

“Why are you all wet?” Mitsuko asked as Ryoichi walked into the living room. She, Keiko, and Rantaro were sitting down as Ranma and Akane set down bowls and plates of food along with cups of tea for everyone. 

“Fell in the canal,” Ryoichi said. He looked at Rantaro and smiled, definitely not about to throw up. “Rantaro. You’re back.”

“Yeah,” said Rantaro, and he smiled too. It didn’t happen too often, but when it did, it lit up the whole room. “Just kinda ended up here.”

“You fell?” asked Ranma, setting down the last plate before standing up straight, leaning on his cane. “That doesn’t sound like you.”

“Well, I guess, technically—” Ryoichi scratched his chin hesitantly. “Kuno pushed me in, when I was up on the fence.”

Ranma laughed. “You mother used to do that to me all the time.”

“Yeah, but I was flirting with you,” said Akane, taking her seat as she set down the teapot. 

“The Kuno kid was probably flirting with Ryoichi,” said Ranma. “They went on a date.”

“We’re just friends,” asserted Ryoichi, trying not to blush. 

“Sure, kiddo,” said Ranma knowingly as he took his own seat. 

Ryoichi sat down with a _thump_ , right next to Rantaro. “We are.”

Rantaro turned his head to look at Ryoichi. “He probably was flirting with you.”

Ryoichi froze, the sound of his heartbeat echoing inside his own head as time stopped. Rantaro’s smile had faded, and his face was now as unreadable as it normally was. 

“You—you think?” he stammered out nervously.

“Sure,” said Rantaro with a shrug, reaching over the table to scoop himself out some rice. “Why wouldn’t he?”

Ryoichi had no idea how to answer that. Or how to process it. Or what it meant. So he just served himself food on his own plate, keeping his gaze down. 

“I kinda miss it, you know?” Ranma said to Akane, his mouth full of fish. “Walking up on the fence next to you, when we would go to school.”

“Even when I would push you in?” Akane asked with a small smile, taking a bite of vegetables. 

“Even when you would push me in,” Ranma replied with a genuine grin. He leaned over to kiss his wife quickly on the lips. 

“Aw,” said Ryoichi.

“Weird,” muttered Rantaro.

“Meh,” shrugged Mitsuko.

“What, what happened?” asked Keiko, her wandering attention suddenly focused back on the table. 

“Well Ryoichi, I just folded all your clothes and put them on your bed,” said Akane. “So you should have something dry and clean to wear.”

“Thanks Mom,” said Ryoichi with a sigh. He picked up his bowl of rice and began to eat. When he first received the message that Rantaro was home, he had been really happy. Now he felt all mixed up inside, more unsure than he had ever been. 

“Ryoichi,” said Rantaro when they were halfway through dinner. “I had an idea for a new Tiktok. You wanna make it after we’re done?”

A huge smile broke out across Ryoichi’s face, and his stomach settled like the sea after a storm. 

“Yes!”

* * *

“Can’t we just elope?” Ryoga asked as he stood with Nabiki and Akane in the middle of the Imperial Ballroom. It was as impressive and sparkling clean as it was the last time Akane was there, and she still felt like it was too fancy for her planning skills. 

“Absolutely not,” said Nabiki. “I already put a deposit on this place. And it’s non-refundable!”

Ryoga crossed his arms. “I had a big wedding before. It was a nightmare.”

“But you weren’t marrying me,” Nabiki specified. “So this time, it will be a dream.”

Despite himself, the corner of Ryoga’s mouth threatened to pull up into a smile. “I guess you’re right.”

“I always am,” said Nabiki. She walked into the center of the ballroom, her footsteps echoing across the space. “And besides, Akane eloped. Kasumi had a traditional wedding, in the dojo. Me? I’m gonna show them both up and have a giant blowout.”

“Thanks,” said Akane sardonically as she looked down at her notebook. “Now can we actually do some planning?”

“Sure,” said Nabiki as her sister and fiance joined her in the middle of the floor. “What do you need to know?”

“Western style wedding, right? You want to have dancing?”

“Yes,” Nabiki and Ryoga replied in unison. Akane marked down their answer.

“DJ or live band?”

“Live band,” they again said simultaneously. 

“This is good,” said Akane, writing down their choice. “You guys are already in sync.”

“Of course we are,” said Ryoga, putting his arm around Nabiki’s shoulders. “We’re in love.”

“Aw,” said Nabiki, and kissed him on the cheek.

“Now as for food—”

“No pork,” asserted Ryoga.

“Got it. What kind of menu were you looking at?”

“Can we do French food?” asked Nabiki. 

Akane wrinkled her nose. “Ranma won’t eat it.”

“So? It’s not his wedding.”

“He is baking your cake,” said Akane. “For free.”

“Well, we’re family,” said Nabiki with a teasing smile. When Akane merely frowned back at her, she relented with a sigh. “Fine, not French food. What about pizza?”

“Pizza?” asked Ryoga. 

“I miss having good pizza,” said Nabiki. “Haven’t had anything worth mentioning since I left New York.”

“I don’t think we could find a caterer in Japan who could make good pizza for—” Akane hesitated, tapping the end of her pen against her chin. “Wait. How many guests are you having?”

Nabiki and Ryoga looked at each other. It was a question they hadn’t thought about. 

“Well,” said Nabiki slowly. “There’s you. Ranma. The kids. His parents. Kasumi, Tofu, their kids. How many is that?”

“Twelve,” replied Akane.

“My dad,” said Ryoga. “Akemi. Rantaro.”

“Fifteen,” said Akane.

“Um—huh,” said Nabiki, racking her brain. She stamped one foot in realization. “Ooh! Mamoru! Ami and her family! Tacchan!”

“Twenty-one,” said Akane. “Don’t you guys have any friends?”

“I had a couple in New York,” said Nabiki. “But not the type of friends where I would fly them from another county to my wedding.”

“You and Ranma are my friends,” said Ryoga. “Other than that—I mean, I guess I have some mutuals on twitter, but I wouldn’t invite them.”

Akane closed her eyes and sighed in annoyance. “So you’re going to have twenty-one guests at your wedding, half of them children?”

Nabiki scratched her chin. “Maybe we could hire some seat fillers or something?”

Akane bit her lip, scribbling something down in her notebook furiously. “You know what? I’ll work it out.”

Nabiki grinned, ignoring her sister’s irritation. “You always do.”


	29. Boba Manifesto

_ When they were 42 _

“Hey,” Ranma said, kicking Ryoichi’s door open with his good leg. “Go get your friend up. He won’t get out of bed and it’s time to go.”

Ryoichi sat up straight in bed, his eyes still closed. “Whuh?”

“He won’t listen to me, maybe he’ll listen to you,” Ranma said. “Come on!”

“Rantaro?” Ryoichi asked, trying to blink his eyes open. 

“Yeah, yeah, tell him you need to make a TikTok or something, I’m going downstairs.” Ranma turned and stomped off, leaving Ryoichi alone. The teenager yawned loudly, stretching his arms above his head. He scratched his stomach through his tank top and threw off his covers, wearily bringing himself to his feet. With another yawn, he headed out and down the hallway to the guestroom. Rantaro had only been back for a week, but Ranma had wasted no time in getting him back to work at the bakery.

“Rantaro?”

The lump on the futon turned over to face him, although other than that it didn’t move. “What?”

Ryoichi took a seat on the floor next to his friend. “You feeling all right, bud?”

Rantaro shrugged.

“Are you sick?”

“No.”

“You know,” Ryoichi said, leaning down and stretching out so he was laying on his stomach, facing Rantaro. He put one arm under his head for support. “My mom has days like this sometimes. Where she can’t get out of bed. Is that what this is?”

Another shrug.

“I can tell my dad to let you take off. He’ll understand.”

Rantaro said nothing, but clenched the pillow under his head tightly. 

“You don’t have to talk about it if—”

“My dad was right,” said Rantaro softly.

“About what?”

“I’m depressed and lonely. Probably because of him. It sucks. It’s not fair.” Rantaro’s eyebrows wrinkled and he clenched his jaw. “I’m tired of getting lost. I’m tired of my dad getting lost. I’m tired of not having any friends.”

“You have friends,” said Ryoichi.

“Just you.”

“You have to have other friends.”

Rantaro shook his head. “I have a couple online friends, but in real life, it’s just you.”

Ryoichi bit his lip, thinking. “Well, what about Mitsuko and Keiko?”

“They’re nine,” Rantaro scoffed.

“So?”

“So.”

“What about my mom? You said you like her.”

“I do,” said Rantaro. “But she’s a mom. Not my friend.”

“I think she would say you’re her friend,” Ryoichi replied. “And what about Dad? You work with him all the time. You have to get along somewhat, right?”

“He’s my boss.”

“Nah,” said Ryoichi. “You know you don’t have to actually do what he tells you, right? He lets us get away with everything.”

“Ryoichi—”

“Sounds to me,” said Ryoichi. “Like you have a whole houseful of friends.”

Rantaro sighed, but his grip on the pillow softened. “Maybe.”

“See?” Ryoichi grinned. “But if you want to make some friends outside the house, you can come get boba tea with me and my friends today.”

Rantaro wrinkled his nose. “Boba?”

“Oh yeah, it’s disgusting,” Ryoichi said with a smile. “But it’s about the experience.”

Rantaro laughed. “All right.”

“Ah, look at that, I made you laugh!”

“You always make me laugh,” Rantaro said softly. “It’s why you’re my friend.”

Ryoichi remained on the floor, giving the other boy a kind smile. His heart was fluttering in his chest as the two of them continued to lay there silently, looking each other in the eyes. 

And he didn’t even feel like throwing up.

“Hey!”

The guest room door opened sharply, and Ranma stood there, angrily gripping his cane.

Ryoichi leapt to his feet. “Dad, I thought you were downstairs—”

“Got tired of waiting,” Ranma grunted. “Is Rantaro coming or not?”

“He’s not,” said Ryoichi.

Ranma raised an eyebrow. “He sick?”

“Sort of.”

Ranma looked over his son’s shoulder at the other boy lying on the futon. Rantaro avoided his gaze and turned over onto his other side.

“Fine,” said Ranma with a sigh. “Guess I’ll make Hiroshi do the dishes. He won’t want to, though.”

“He never wants to,” said Ryoichi, grinning.

“True,” said Ranma. “Well, I can’t waste anymore time. Gotta get going. Goodbye. I love you.”

“Love you too, Dad,” said Ryoichi.

Ranma looked back into the room. “I said, ‘I love you!’”

After a moment, a low “I love you too” emerged from the pile of blankets on the futon. 

“Make him some tea, will you?” Ranma asked.

“Sure thing, Dad.”

Ranma gave his son a smile and a pat on the shoulder and left. Ryoichi turned back to Rantaro.

“I’m gonna make you some tea, okay?”

“Aren’t we getting boba tea later?” came the muffled response.

‘Yeah, but that’s not real tea,” said Ryoichi. He stepped back over to the futon and squatted, resting his elbows on his knees. “And can I tell you a secret?”

Rantaro stirred and pulled the blankets down enough to reveal his eyes. “What?”

Ryoichi grinned. “I prefer coffee.”

“Your mom would probably cry if she heard that.”

Ryoichi laughed. “See? You know her pretty well. How can you think you’re not friends?”

“Well,” muttered Rantaro. “I guess. I still want tea, though.”

Ryoichi stood again. “You got it, bud.”

* * *

“Fresh meat!” Takeshi yelled when Ryoichi and Rantaro came in sight of the outdoor tables of the boba place. It was a small setup, a brightly painted hut, with an assortment of round wooden tables with high stools scattered around the concrete lot. Takeshi slammed the table with one fist, using his other hand to point at Rantaro. “Fresh meat! Fresh meat! Fresh meat!”

“Takeshi, stop,” Sakura hissed, nudging him in the side. 

“No, no, no, I think I’m going to get really into hazing this year—”

“It’s July!”

“So there’s still time!”

“Rantaro,” Ryoichi said, smiling as they reached the table. “This is Sakura and Takeshi, some of my best friends. And you know Kuno—” Ryoichi pointed at the taller boy who had remained silent while sitting next to Takeshi. “Also one of my best friends. Guys, this is Rantaro, my best friend.”

“Hi!” Sakura and Takeshi called out in synchronous sing-song. They beamed as Rantaro awkwardly took a seat that was across from them, but next to Kuno. 

“Salutations,” said Kuno in a deep voice, although he didn’t smile, simply looked down at his boba tea and slurped through the straw. 

“I’ll go get us some boba,” Ryoichi said to Ranatro. “What kind do you want?”

Rantaro frowned. “Uh, I’m not sure—”

“Lychee!” said Sakura eagerly. “The lychee is the best!”

“Okay,” Rantaro nodded. “Lychee.”

Sakura grinned at Takeshi. “At least someone listens to my advice.”

Takeshi rolled his eyes. “I listen to you all the time—”

“I’ll be right back,” Ryoichi said to Rantaro as the couple continued their banter. He gave him a soft pat on the shoulder and then headed over to the cut out in the shack to order. 

Kuno cleared his throat. “So, ah—what is your surname?”

“Oh,” said Rantaro, fidgeting in his seat. “Hibiki.”

“Hibiki? That’s unusual isn’t it?” Sakura commented, sipping her boba tea. 

“I guess,” said Rantaro. His eyebrows crinkled in thought. “But maybe—”

“Maybe what?” asked Takeshi.

“My dad’s getting married,” said Rantaro. “And he’s gonna change his name to Tendo. I don’t have to change my name, do I?”

“I don’t think so,” said Sakura. “Do you want to?”

“Not to Tendo.”

“To what, then?”

“Here we go,” said Ryoichi, returning with the tea. He placed the lychee in front of Rantaro and sat down with his own mango boba, in between Rantaro and Sakura. 

“Hey, Ryoichi,” said Takeshi, sliding his straw in and out of his cup, making a squeaking noise. “Isn’t Rantaro’s dad marrying your aunt?”

“Yeah,” said Ryoichi, grinning. “We parent trapped ‘em good.”

“But won’t that make you and Rantaro cousins?”

Ryoichi and Rantaro suddenly turned to each other, eyes wide.

“No,” said Kuno firmly. “They will not become magically related due to that.”

“Step-cousins, then,” said Sakura cheerfully.

Ryoichi looked forward, slurping at his boba, trying to avoid Rantaro’s eyes. His stomach gurgled a little bit. He did not want to be related to Rantaro. 

Kuno raised one eyebrow. “Perhaps we should speak of something besides pending familial relations.” 

“Ooh, yes, Rantaro, I’ve been meaning to tell you,” said Sakura excitedly. “I really liked the one tiktok you did, with the—” She waved her hands in front of her face, trying to imitate Rantaro’s move from the video. “It was really impressive!”

“You were meaning to tell me?” asked Rantaro. “But we’ve never met.”

“But I knew we would,” Sakura said matter-of-factly, drinking from her boba tea.

“Your guys’ tiktok is really popular at school,” said Takeshi. “Although you’re definitely a better dancer than Ryoichi.”

“Well, that’s true.” Rantaro crossed his arms with a small smile.Then he blinked and looked at Ryoichi apologetically. “Not that you’re bad—”

“It’s fine,” said Ryoichi, laughing. “You remember when your dad was in the elevator and said he was a better dancer than Aunt Nabiki and she agreed? This is exactly the same situation.”

“Is it?” asked Rantaro, with a tilt of his head. 

“Elevator?” asked Kuno.

Ryoichi grinned again. “We trapped them in an elevator. For hours!”

“Cool,” said Sakura. “Just like a movie.”

“Romantic comedies,” said Kuno thoughtfully. 

“Can you teach me a dance?” Sakura asked, hopping up from her seat.

“Sure,” said Rantaro, standing up himself. “I actually like teaching people how to dance a lot.”

“Great!” 

Ryoichi turned in his seat, watching as the pair walked over to the other side of the lot where there was more space to move around. He leaned back against the table, happy to see his friends getting along. 

“So this is the guy?” Takeshi asked, popping his head over Ryoichi’s left shoulder.

Ryoichi turned to him, confused. “Huh?”

“The guy you like,” Takeshi replied.

Ryoichi blushed. “Who told you that?!”

“I did,” said Kuno, popping his head over Ryoichi’s other shoulder. Ryoichi whipped his head over to Kuno.

“What?! Why?!”

“We’re friends,” said Kuno earnestly. “Friends tell each other things.”

“Yeah,” said Takeshi. “I didn’t know it was a secret you liked this guy.”

Ryoichi faced forward, his blush growing. “Rantaro doesn’t—I mean—”

“You still haven’t informed him of your feelings?” asked Kuno. “Even after I pushed you in the canal?”

“It’s complicated,” Ryoichi said, his cheeks burning. “So just leave it!”

Kuno shared a quick look with Takeshi behind Ryoichi’s back.

“You know,” said Kuno, facing forward again. “I think you enjoy the pining.”

“What?” Ryoichi asked. 

“Romantic comedies,” said Kuno. “Your favorite kind of story. And what is a romance without pining?”

Ryoichi’s face stretched into a grimace. He ran out of metaphors to compare his stomach to. He just wanted to throw up. 

“Eh, I think he’s just chicken,” Takeshi said, crossing his arms. 

“Also a possibility,” Kuno said, nodding in agreement. 

The tension evaporated from Ryoichi’s shoulders and he slumped forward slightly, annoyed. “You guys—”

“Ryoichi!” Sakura called out, waving to him. “Come record us for tiktok!”

“You wanna go on our tiktok?” asked Ryoichi in surprise.

“Yeah, duh,” said Sakura. “I’ve never posted anything on mine except that fight I had with Kaede about her trying to slide into Takeshi’s DMs!”

“Really?” Ryoichi asked, turning to Takeshi. “Kaede hit on you?”

Takeshi put his hands up, palms out. “And I told Sakura right away! I’m a good boyfriend.”

“Come on, Ryoichi!” Sakura called out again. “Film us!”

“All right, all right,” Ryoichi said, standing up and pulling his phone from his pocket. He walked over to them, standing a few feet away. Held up his phone, making sure Rantaro and Sakura were in frame.

“Are you guys ready?” he asked.

“Yes,” Rantaro replied with a huge smile, flashing his teeth.

Ryoichi smiled back, but the muscles in his face were tight. Sakura was a good dancer, had picked it up quicker and more easily than Ryoichi had. She matched Rantaro’s move perfectly. Ryoichi felt torn in half. On one hand, he was glad that Rantaro was loosening up, that he liked his other friends and his other friends liked him. On the other hand, why did Rantaro have to look so happy when he was dancing with a girl?

“So,” said Takeshi, sidling up next to Kuno as Sakura made Ryoichi record a second take. “Ryoichi really likes this guy.”

“I suppose,” said Kuno, his arms crossed over his chest. 

“And how do you feel about it?” Takeshi asked.

Kuno looked down from the sides of his eyes, raising one eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t you like Ryoichi? Aren’t you jealous?”

Kuno took a deep breath. “I did. But I don’t think we’re compatible.”

“Why not?”

“Well, for example,” said Kuno. “I hate dancing.”

Takeshi laughed. “Really?”

“Yes,” replied Kuno. “And I hate tiktok. And romantic comedies.”

“What about boba?” asked Takeshi.

“I like boba.”

“Then you and Ryoichi really aren’t compatible,” said Takeshi. “He hates it.”

“Then why does he always come here with us?”

“Just the kinda guy he is,” Takeshi replied with a shrug. “Nothing really bothers him, if he’s doing it for his friends.”

“Admirable,” said Kuno. “But I wouldn’t make a tiktok for him.”

“Fair enough.”

“And cut!” Sakura yelled out, holding one hand straight up above her hand as she bounced on her toes, her long, smooth hair bouncing with her. “Ryoichi, you’ll edit and post that today, right?”

“Sure,” Ryoichi said weakly, turning his phone off for the time being. “Shouldn’t take long.”

“You’re a pretty good dancer,” Rantaro said to Sakura as they walked back over to the table, Ryoichi behind them. “Did you take lessons?”

“No way!” She shook her head and wiggled her hips. “I’m all self taught!”

“Even more impressive,” said Rantaro, smiling as he climbed up on a stool, Ryoichi sitting next to him. 

Ryoichi was burning alive inside his chest. Rantaro, making conversation. Complimenting a girl! Smiling! And as the conversation continued, Ryoichi remained silent, just watching Rantaro. He wasn’t that talkative, but he laughed when one of the others told a joke. Answered questions when asked, although in his typical, blunt way, with as few words as possible. 

Ryoichi had never experienced jealousy before. Not for real. Not like this. And he felt like crap about it. Rantaro wanted to make new friends, and he had. He had been so depressed and lonely this morning, but had now opened up and relaxed, at least as much as Rantaro was capable of opening up and relaxing. 

“All right, I’m afraid I must take my leave,” Kuno said after nearly an hour. 

“Aw, what for?” Takeshi asked, with a loud slurp of his drink. 

“My father wants me home to celebrate,” said Kuno. “Today is my birthday.”

“WHAT?!” yelled Sakura, Takeshi, and Ryoichi all at once, while Rantaro winced at the noise. 

“Why didn’t you tell us?!” Sakura demanded, slapping the table with her hand.

“Yeah!” agreed Ryoichi, hopping to his feet. “I could have had my dad make you a cake!”

Kuno put his hands up pleadingly. “It’s not really that important, my father just—”

“It’s not too late,” said Rantaro, who had learned the virtues of interrupting from his time at the Saotome household. “The bakery is still open for half an hour.”

Kuno frowned. “I should really—”

“Cake!” shouted Ryoichi, who then began banging his hands on the table. “Cake! Cake! Cake! Cake! Ca—”

“Fine,” Kuno said in a sharp tone. “Let’s go.”

The others cheered and after clearing their table, took off down the street away from the boba place. 

“Another thing I dislike,” Kuno murmured privately to Takeshi as Ryoichi, Rantaro, and Sakura walked ahead of them. “Is the chanting.”

“He does do that a lot,” Takeshi said, smirking and putting his hands in his pockets. “But he usually gets his way because of it.”

The walk to the bakery wasn’t far, and Ryoichi led the way. He burst through the front door, the bell jingling loudly above their heads. The space in front of the counters wasn’t terribly large, so they all crowded in awkwardly, bumping shoulders.

“Ryoichi?” asked Hiroshi, who was standing behind the register. “What’s up?”

“Not much,” Ryoichi replied with a smile, leaning his elbows on the counter. “Where’s Dad?”

“Right here,” said Ranma, walking stiffly out from behind the wall to the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. As it was afternoon, and July, he had already doused himself with cold water and was currently in his female form. “What do you need?”

“It’s Kuno’s birthday today,” said Ryoichi. “So we need a cake.”

Ranma looked over Ryoichi’s shoulder at the taller boy standing behind him. With a grin, he said, “Oh, Nobunaga. Wow, you look just like him, you know?”

Kuno narrowed his eyes in confusion. “And you are?”

“This is my dad,” Ryoichi said, smiling back at him. “Ranma Saotome.”

“Your father?” Kuno stared down intently at the petite woman smiling up at him from behind the counter. Repeated slowly, “Father.”

Ranma looked back to Ryoichi. “You didn’t tell him?”

His son shrugged. “Forgot.”

“Tell me what?” asked Kuno. 

“Well, it’s too hot to turn back into a guy, so forget it,” said Ranma. “And it’s too late to make him a cake, we’re about to close. And also, Rantaro—”

Rantaro stiffened as Ranma glared at him sharply. 

“You’re too sick to come to work today but you can hang out with your friends?”

Rantaro averted his eyes and stammered out something that wasn’t quite a sentence. 

“Leave him alone, Dad,” said Ryoichi, stepping over to block his father’s view of Rantaro. “And I know you have cakes already made.”

“Is that so?” Ranma asked, raising his eyebrows and crossing his arms.

“Yeah,” Ryoichi replied, straightening up and gesturing to his left. “They’re right there in the display case.”

Ranma’s head whipped over to where his son was indicating and pursed his lips before letting out a sigh. Limping over to the case, he said, “All right, Nobunaga. What kinda cake do you like? Chocolate? Red velvet? Carrot?”

“Ah—” Kuno scratched his chin with one finger. “Chocolate will be sufficient, I suppose.”

“Great,” said Ranma. He took the cake out of the case and plopped it on the counter. “What do you want it to say?”

“Say?”

“He’ll write something on the cake for you,” said Ryoichi. 

“I’ve never had something written on a cake before.”

“Really?” asked Ranma. “I figured your dad would get you a big cake with a novel describing your birth written on it every year.”

“No, that’s usually written on a card,” Kuno said matter-of-factly. “We don’t normally have cake, because my aunt insists on baking them, and if she’s mad at my father, well—”

“They’re poisoned, I get it,” said Ranma. “I’ll just put ‘Happy Birthday Nobunaga’ on it, how’s that?”

Hesitantly, Kuno replied, “That should be fine.”

Ranma smiled and carried the cake back to the kitchen, making slow but steady progress. 

“Does your aunt really poison your cakes?” Rantaro asked Kuno. Kuno looked down at the other boy, surprised he was addressing him directly. 

“Only sometimes,” he replied slowly. “But often enough that she is not to be trusted.”

“You’re gonna let us have some of your cake, right?” Sakura asked eagerly.

“Let him have his cake in peace,” said Takeshi, putting an arm around her shoulders. “And besides, he said his dad wanted him to come home.”

“True enough,” said Kuno with a slight smile. “But if there’s any left, I could bring it to school tomorrow.”

“Yes!” Sakura clapped her hands together in excitement. “Ryoichi’s dad makes the best cakes!”

“You know it,” Ranma said, returning from the kitchen. He placed an open cake box on the counter and motioned for Kuno to come closer. “Here, what do you think?”

Written surprisingly neatly in brightly colored frosting were the words, “Happy Birthday Nobunaga” accompanied by a tiny smiley face. Kuno gently put his hands on either side of the box, resting his fingers on the thin cardboard. 

“It’s very nice, thank you,” he said quietly.

“No problem,” said Ranma, quickly spinning the box around and fastening it shut. “Happy birthday, Nobunaga Kuno, age seventeen.”

With more expressions of gratitude and a chorus of good-byes, the group of teenagers left the bakery, leaving Ranma and Hiroshi alone behind the counter. 

Hiroshi picked up his mug of coffee and looked over at Ranma. “Is that kid’s name really Nobunaga?”

“Yeah,” said Ranma. “It’s hilarious.”

“Not surprising that he’s Kuno’s son,” said Hiroshi, sipping his coffee.   


“Well,” said Ranma, crossing his arms. “He seems like a good kid, at least.

“And his dad definitely was not.”

“Kuno wasn’t so bad,” said Ranma, smiling. “After all, he paid for my honeymoon.”


	30. Pieces

_When they were 16_

“I’m Ranma Saotome. Sorry about this.”

Akane peeked over her father’s shoulder at their guests. She had been incensed that he thought he could marry one of them off to a boy they had never met. Akane had no interest in boys. She was interested in someone, though. But he was a man. Mature. Kind. And that was enough.

The person standing in front of the panda in the hallway wasn’t a boy or a man, though. It was a girl. And she was—cute. 

Akane pushed that thought out of her head. A cute girl was no big deal. There were lots of cute girls in the world. Not that she noticed them, or anything. 

She invited Ranma to the dojo. Asked her to be friends. That’s what you could do with girls. Be friends. That was enough. It had to be.

Ranma won the fight, flipping behind Akane and tapping her on the shoulder. Akane turned and Ranma smiled and began to laugh. Akane laughed with her. 

And for not the first time, but definitely the last time in her life, Akane Tendo was in love.

* * *

_When they were 42_

One day a week, the bakery was closed. And this day was like any of those, at first. Ranma made a gigantic breakfast for his family. Mitsuko woke up and joined the rest of them halfway through. Ryoichi asked his mother to look over his English essay, while Rantaro showed Keiko the latest tiktok they had made. 

Akane promised Ryoichi she would look at his essay later and stood from the table. Pushed her glasses up her nose. Started gathering the dirty plates, piling them in her arms.

Took two steps.

Screamed.

Fell.

The dishes crashed to the floor around her, most of them shattering into jagged pieces. Ranma was at her side in an instant, as she hunched over on her knees, holding her hands against her chest.

"Akane, what is it?"

"Mom?" Her children, all her children, Rantaro too, gathered around her as she rocked back and forth.

Shaking, she tried to sit up. Lifted up her right hand, staring at the back of it in horror.

A thick, black wound in the shape of an X had appeared there, tiny tendrils curling out from its lines and angles.

"No," she whispered. "No! It can't be! I cut him to pieces! Ranma, I cut him to pieces!"

Her whisper had turned into shrieking. Backing herself up against her husband's chest. Ranma held her by her shoulders from behind.

"It's all right, we'll go to Chihayma—"

Akane shook her head. "No, Ranma. He's close. I can feel it."

The color drained from Ranma's face. "How close?"

"Too close."

Ranma jerked his head towards Ryoichi. "Get your sisters upstairs."

"Dad, what—"

"Now!"

Ryoichi and Rantaro swept up one twin each, running upstairs. They put Mitsuko and Keiko in Ryoichi's room.

"What was that?" Rantaro asked. "What's going on?"

"I don't know," Ryoichi said, shaking his head. 

"I've never seen Mama so scared," whispered Keiko, hugging Mitsuko on the bed. She hadn't called their mother Mama since she was three years old.

"Me neither," said Ryoichi. Not even when his mom was pregnant with the twins. Not even on her worst days. "But you two heard what Dad said. Stay here. I'm gonna go help them, if I can."

"Me too," said Rantaro. "And you know we're strong, right?"

Keiko nodded.

"Be safe," said Mitsuko. "Something bad is going to happen, I just know it!"

Ryoichi set his jaw. "Not if I can help it. "

He and Rantaro raced down the stairs. Ranma and Akane were no longer in the living room. Ryoichi found them out front, standing in the middle of the walkway, Akane shaking as Ranma had his arm around her.

Ranma turned to them. "You two should stay inside."

Ryoichi shook his head. "No way. We're going to help."

"He's too much like you, Ranma," Akane said. She also turned to her son. The black veins had moved up her hand, spiraling around her wrist. "But Ryoichi. Don't underestimate him."

"Who?"

The gates to the Tendo dojo exploded open, sending wooden splinters in all directions. Two immense soldiers made out of pale white stone stepped inside, standing in place, each holding a long naginata. A large puddle of black ooze slithered on the ground between them, stretching and growing and expanding as the shape of a man formed, rising from the ground.

Akane stepped away from Ranma. Took a deep breath. Adopted a ready stance. Hands up, in fists. Feet hip width apart. Ryoichi and Rantaro did the same on either side of her. 

The ooze, slimy and dripping, started to solidify. The shape became clearer. An immense man. Bald. Shirtless. An eyepatch. Beard. Barefoot.

And he was laughing.

"It appears I found the right place."

Akane tightened her muscles. "You died. I killed you."

More of the ooze dripped off of the man, coalescing back into the puddle. "But you didn't burn me, like you should."

Now able to view the strange figure with more clarity, Ryoichi could see he was stitched together. At his joints. Across his neck. Zigzagged over his torso. Crude, thick, black thread holding him together. 

He tried to ignore the fact that his mother just admitted to killing a man. If he was even a man at all. 

"This time, I'll make sure to," Akane growled. "Zentoshi."

The man laughed. "I've been waiting for so long to have this fight again. It was fun the first time, even though you burned my chambers. All my hard work. But, you stupid girl, you just let all the pieces of me fall to the floor. It took my children many years to piece me back together. Gather enough blood. Find a way to leave that wretched mountain. And once I was complete, I thought I'd save my wrath for that rotten town for later. It will still be there after I kill you."

"Good luck," Ranma snorted.

Akane, Ryoichi, and Rantaro parted. Ranma stepped up between them. A look of wonder crossed Zentoshi's face.

"The male child?" He asked. "The man from Tokyo? I thought you died."

Ranma shrugged, smirking. "Didn't take."

Zentoshi laughed. "Well, then, perhaps this fight will be even more interesting than I thought. "

Ryoichi watched, in shock, as his father threw his cane to the side, into the garden. Took off the silly Hawaiian shirt he was wearing, leaving him in his tank top.

And then saw the most incredible thing he had ever seen in his life.

His father, adapting a ready stance.

It was different than his mother's. His hands were loose. Unassuming. Casual. But the lines of his back were firm.

And most astounding, he was bearing his weight on his right leg. 

Ryoichi kept staring at his father as he faced down Zentoshi. A tiny bead of sweat formed on Ranma's forehead. His jaw quivered, only slightly. Ryoichi felt his heart drop out. His father was in incredible pain, but still ready to fight.

"An opening!"

A figure descended from over the wall, kicking Zentoshi in the jaw, and landed on her feet in the garden, her high tops skidding in the dirt.

"Mirai?" asked Ranma in a small voice as Zentoshi shook his head, stunned by the surprise blow.

"Who else?" she asked, grinning and bouncing upright. She jerked her thumb in Zentoshi's direction. "Who's the jabroni?"

"Mirai, what are you doing here?!" Ryoichi shouted in exasperation.

"Oh, I'm sorry," said Mirai, rolling her eyes. "I just saw a mysterious puddle of black ooze making its way up the street and followed it! And where did it end up? The Tendo dojo! Not my fault!"

"So you've assembled an army of sorts, then," Zentoshi said, his voice booming across the yard. "I have one too."

He pulled his arms upward, drawing ooze from the puddle. And from it emerged more stone soldiers and a mass of small, strange creatures with tiny eyes and sharp teeth. 

Ryoichi's family gathered together, their backs to each other in a circle, as the swarm of creatures and stone giants began to writhe and take formation around them. 

"Dad, what the heck are these?"

"Akuma-ko," said Akane softly. "Tiny demons."

"They're tougher than they look. You can smash them into goo, but slicing them up is easier. Try to get yourself something sharp from one of the stone guys. Take them out at their joints. Although I bet Rantaro can handle those guys the best, right?" Ranma asked.

"Right," replied Rantaro, his fists up and ready.

"At least he's smarter than his father," Ranma sighed. "But Mirai and Ryoichi, you got the little guys. Me and Akane will handle Zentoshi."

"Is that the jabroni?" asked Mirai.

"I don't know what that means!" shouted Ranma. "Just do what I said!"

"Got it!"

Mirai was off, flipping through the air and landing on an akuma-ko with her elbow, causing it to explode into ooze and spatter over the walkway. 

The rest of them broke apart. Ryoichi kicked and punched and dodged, suffering dozens of small cuts from a series of teeth and claws. The stone soldiers marched forward and Rantaro leapt up in the air, pointing his index finger at the head of the closest one. Ryoichi wondered briefly what he was doing before Rantaro yelled at the top of his lungs.

" _Bakusai tenketsu!!_ "

His finger made contact with the forehead of the blank faced automaton and it shattered into a thousand pebbles. Ryoichi had no time to gawp at the technique as half a dozen akuma-ko were clawing at his legs. The naginata the stone soldier had been holding spun through the air, and Ryoichi caught it deftly with one hand. He swung, slicing through the eager little creatures, turning them into ooze.

There was a pause. Ryoichi stood up to catch his breath, staring around the front yard now turned into a battlefield. Mirai whooping with joy as she smushed akuma-ko into nothingness. Rantaro efficiently destroying the stone beings with his finger. 

And then his mother and father, fighting together.

The mark had traveled even further up Akane's arm, to her elbow now. And she still was able to dodge Zentoshi's powerful fist, sending that elbow up into his ribs. Ranma stayed in the air, almost constantly, in a way Ryoichi had only seen his grandfather or Mirai fight. And he was fast. Faster than his mother. Faster than Mirai. Faster than Ryoichi himself. But his punches still had power, knocking Zentoshi back, making the large man's feet crack the stone of the walkway as he dug in his heels.

_Your father is the greatest martial artist in the world!_

Another punch. A block. An aerial dodge.

_He hates martial arts._

Ranma grabbed Akane by the wrists, swung her upward, so they could send kicks into Zentoshi's chin together. 

_Do you know your own history?_

And Zentoshi returned the strike. Connected with Akane's stomach using the back of one massive fist. She doubled over, gasping for breath. Ranma dove forward, grabbing Zentoshi's legs, flipping the taller man forward, over his back. 

Ryoichi felt like smiling and crying all at once. His father had been holding back this whole time.

And he was incredible. 

A stone soldier stepped in front of Ryoichi, blocking his view. Go for the joints, his dad said. Ryoichi slid under the swing of the soldier’s naginata, kicking back and up to flip the weapon out of its hand. Skillfully caught it one hand as he turned, but slipped in a puddle of black goo. He grunted as he hit the ground and the stone soldier lifted one heavy foot to stomp on Ryoichi’s head, momentarily blocking out the sun. 

“ _En garde!_ ”

Ryoichi blinked up in surprise, a bokken stuck deep in the torso of the stone soldier, right between the joints holding it together. 

“Kuno?” he asked in shock. 

Kuno applied his weight on the end of the bokken, cracking the stone soldier apart. With a grin, he offered one hand down to Ryoichi and helped him to his feet. “Saotome.”

“What are you doing here?!”

“Your sister sent a group text.” Kuno nodded his head upwards with a quirked eyebrow. Ryoichi followed his line of sight to the upstairs window in the front of their house, where Mitsuko was beaming, her phone screen pressed against the glass.

Ryoichi laughed briefly, but then looked back at Kuno. “Wait. A group text? Who else—”

“Ranchan!” Ukyo cried, leaping over the wall with her husband, Hayato, and drawing her large spatula from her back. “This is so exciting! A real fight again!”

“It’s been a while for me too,” said Hayato, using his large skewer to immediately burst through the torso of several akuma-ko at once.

“Ucchan?” Ranma said in confusion, his arms around Zentoshi’s neck from behind. “What the—”

“AWOOOO!”

Ranma and Zentoshi looked over in unison as a crowd of dogs, black and white fur split evenly down the middle, leapt over the wall in a rush, tearing apart akuma-ko and stone soldier alike. Kenshi hopped up on the far wall and waved, holding his dog whistle. 

“Uncle Ranma!” he shouted, smiling brightly. “I brought the dogs!”

Ranma looked down at Akane, who was tugging at Zentoshi’s calf, trying to get his feet out from under him. “Akane, he brought the dogs.”

“I can see that!” she yelled in exasperation. 

“Sensei!” Yusuke swung down from the branch of the maple tree in the front yard, suspended by his knees, upside down but face to face with Ranma. “Hey! You need some help?”

“I got this,” said Ranma, no longer surprised, turning his hold on Zentoshi into a full nelson. “But you can help the kids.”

“Sure!” Yusuke said. He somersaulted down and effortlessly grappled a naginata from a stone soldier before tearing it apart.

Ranma made an approving face. “Kinda regret calling him a little shit.”

“That was twenty-five years ago!” Akane shouted, finally managing to throw Zentoshi off balance, sending him down on one knee. 

“Oof, don’t put it like that Akane, you make me feel old!”

“ENOUGH!” Zentoshi roared. Bending over, he managed to move quickly enough to throw Ranma off of his shoulders. Ranma backflipped and landed on his feet next to Akane. Zentoshi loomed over the two of them and they braced themselves for his next attack. 

_QUACK_.

A children’s potty in the shape of a duck hit Zentoshi in the side of the head, stunning him for a moment before it clattered to the ground. Both Akane and Ranma looked up in the direction it had come from to see Shampoo and Mousse, standing back to back on top of the gate post, grinning down at them.

“Shampoo? Mousse?” asked Ranma in wonder. 

“ _Nihao_ , Ranma!” Shampoo said with a wave. “And we brought the kids!”

“The kids?” Akane asked. 

Mousse put one hand next to his mouth and called the names of all his children. “Gloss! Compact! Perm! Blush! Shine! Perfume! Cream! Spritz! Gel! Pomade! Ahiru! Koneko!”

Twelve children of varying age and heights stormed through the gates, tearing through the various enemies gathered in front of the house.

“Ahiru?” asked Ranma.

“Koneko?” asked Akane.

Mousse squatted down where he was standing and shouted angrily, “We had twelve kids, okay?! We ran out of names!”

“I will not stand for this humiliation!” Zentoshi shook his head, focusing his attention back onto Ranma and Akane. One of his large hands grabbed Akane’s left arm, pulling her in close, but she was able to twist free and land a kick on his chin, although the angle she moved at didn’t create much of an impact. 

“ _Bo-bo!_ ”

Ranma looked up and turned to look behind him as a giant panda flew over the wall and landed harshly on his stomach, squashing a group of akuma-ko into nothing. The panda stood and shook its fur before adopting a battle stance.

“Pop,” Ranma said softly with a smile. He looked around the yard, at everyone fighting. His son. His niece and nephew. Friends, new and old. Former students. Warrior children. “The only one we’re missing now is—”

_CRASH._

“Where the heck am I now?!”

Ranma’s smile grew as he turned to the hole in the wall his best friend had just barreled through. Always there when you need him. 

“Ryoga.”

Ryoga blinked, looked around at the scene in front of him, and then to Ranma.

“Are we fighting?!”

“Yeah, bud,” Ranma replied, grinning. “We’re fighting.”

Ryoga let out a whoop and launched himself forward and upwards, sticking out one finger and driving it into the head of a stone soldier. It promptly shattered into rubble, and Ranma felt a strange feeling in his chest he hadn’t experienced in years. 

The thrill of a fight.

Baking competitions had been fun. Challenging. Fulfilling. But nothing was like this. Moving your body the way you wanted it to go. The adrenaline of a last second dodge, the satisfying connection of a fist to a jaw. Blood rushing through your body so forcefully you could hear it inside your ears. 

He barely even noticed how much his leg hurt.

The battle was still raging. Dogs were barking and growling. Stones flew through the air. And people were getting hurt. Scrapes and cuts and bruises. Mirai took a hit from the fist of a stone soldier and her lip split. Sliding backwards, she regained her bearings and crossed her arms over her chest and summoned up all the energy she possessed.

“ _Moko takabisha!_ ”

A ball of yellow light shot through a gathering of small demons and giant soldiers, laying them to waste. Mirai smirked and wiped her mouth before throwing herself back into the fight. 

Ranma looked down from where he was hanging from one of Zentoshi’s biceps and yelled at his wife, “Did you teach her that?!”

Akane threw her arms up in irritation. “Well she was never depressed long enough to learn a _shi shi hokodan_!”

Ryoichi heard his parents shouting as he sliced through a group of akuma-ko with the naginata he had picked up. _Shi shi hokodan_? What was that? And what was that thing Mirai had done? His mother hadn’t taught that to him! 

“ _Bakusai tenketsu!_ ”

Ryoichi looked up at the pair of voices shouting above him. Both Ryoga and Rantaro were in the air, grinning at each other as they performed their rock shattering attack. Father and son, side by side. Ryoichi smiled. Rantaro’s dad really was proud of him. 

The enemies were thinning out. There were fewer and fewer every time Ryoichi looked up. But his friends and family were becoming exhausted. Their moves slower, their reflexes dulled. The fight had to end soon. And most of all, he was concerned about his father.

Ranma and Akane were still fighting Zentoshi in tandem. Akane thought Zentoshi was tougher than he was before, somehow. Pain didn’t faze him as much. But she was tougher too, and an even better martial artist. Ranma was incredible as always, even fifteen years out of practice. Still fast. Still strong. But she could see his right leg tremble if he stood on it too long, and he avoided kicking with it. 

Ranma finally sent Zentoshi to the ground with a flurry of punches to the stomach. Akane moved quickly, reaching for a discarded naginata on the ground nearby. But Zentoshi was just a tiny bit quicker, leaping back to his feet and standing in her way. He raised his fist to strike.

_THWIP. THWUNK._

An arrow was sticking out of his eye. Or at least, where his eye used to be, and an eyepatch now was. He roared in aggravation, reaching up to break the shaft. It cracked loudly as the wood split, and he looked up in the direction the arrow had come from. Akane and Ranma followed his gaze, only to get the briefest glimpse of the top of Keiko’s head and bow sinking down below the windowsill.

“Good work, dummy!” Mitsuko hissed at her sister as they crouched on the floor out of view. “You hit the wrong eye!”

“Okay, but I was close!” Keiko hissed back. “Only like two inches off! Not bad for hitting a moving target!”

Zentoshi bent his knees, ready to jump up to the second floor of the house. Ranma saw the intent in the move and dashed forward without thinking. 

“Don’t even think about it!”

Zentoshi used Ranma’s lack of foresight to land an uppercut to the chin, knocking him back down to the ground. He turned, anticipating Ranma’s attack, but—

Ranma wasn’t moving.

“No,” whispered Akane from behind Zentoshi. The color had drained out of her face. Ranma, flat on his back, not moving. No. It was happening again. It couldn’t. Not again. 

She was seventeen years old. Ranma was bleeding out on the floor of a dark, damp cave. Dead. He was dead. Nothing had changed. It was all the same. 

“Looks like it’s just me and you now,” Zentoshi said in his deep voice, smirking as he turned to face Akane. “The fight will turn out differently this time.”

Akane shook her head. Tried not to shake as she raised her hands in front of her chest. Kept her voice as strong and steady as she could. “I beat you before. I’ll do it again.”

“And she has help this time,” Ryoga said, a few feet behind her. The stone soldiers were all dust now. The akuma-ko nothing but goo, spattered over the yard and house. 

Zentoshi raised the eyebrow over his good eye, taking in the sight of the small army gathered together in front of him. Grinned.

“Well that wouldn’t be very fair, would it?” he asked. Without warning, he lifted his hand up and bit down into his palm ferociously, causing it to spray out a fountain of dark red blood. He then took his palm and slammed it flat into the ground in front of him before drawing a quick sigil Akane didn’t recognize. A wave of hot energy rushed through her, causing her to flinch.

When she opened her eyes, she realized what Zentoshi had done. There was a semi-transparent red dome around them and the prone form of Ranma. Same as the strange blood barrier he had placed around Chihayama decades ago. 

“That’s better,” Zentoshi said as he straightened up. “Much more fun if it’s just me and you.”

Akane kept her spine as firm as she could as he advanced towards her. Opened and closed her fists. Spread her feet a little wider. Kept her gaze on Zentoshi, refusing to back down.

And then she blinked. Her shoulders loosened. She dropped her hands and pointed behind Zentoshi curiously. 

“Huh,” she said. “What’s that over there?”

Zentoshi threw his head back and laughed. He held his stomach as he returned his gaze to Akane. “I am not going to fall for your trick this time, child.”

“Too bad,” Akane replied, half of her mouth pulling up into a smile. “Maybe you should have.”

Zentoshi’s eyes narrowed slightly in confusion, but he had no other time to react as the blade of a naginata burst through the back of his neck. His body fell forward as he was decapitated, the red barrier instantly dissipating. And on his back, wielding the handle of the naginata, was Ranma. 

Akane had seen him move when he was lying behind Zentoshi. His hand twitch and curl around the staff of the weapon. And knew what would happen.

“Ranma,” she said, falling to her knees. “Ranma.”

He jumped off Zentoshi’s back and dashed to her, kneeling down. “Let me see your arm.”

The black mark was receding, but slowly, not instantly like it had the first time. Ranma nodded and set his jaw firmly. Picked up the naginata again and stood over Zentoshi. Looked over his shoulder at his son. 

“Ryoichi. Go get the stuff out of the shed we use for the grill. We need to start a fire.”

Wordlessly, Ryoichi nodded, following his dad’s instructions. Rantaro came with him, also saying nothing, simply helping him to hurry. 

Ranma, meanwhile, went to work cutting Zentoshi into smaller pieces. It was a gruesome business, and he did it alone as the others watched, unsure if they should help. Akane remained on the ground, staring blankly ahead, not quite watching him. 

Ryoichi and Rantaro returned to the yard, and Ryoga helped them start the fire. Ranma started to carry over pieces of Zentoshi’s body, but Ryoga put a hand on his old friend’s chest and stopped him. Tilted his head towards Akane. Ranma nodded and sat on the ground with his wife, letting Ryoga finish the job.

Ryoichi took a few steps back, watching his parents. They were facing each other, Ranma with his legs straight out in front of him, Akane with her knees bent up to her chest. Their foreheads were touching, his father holding the back of his mother’s head with one hand, running his fingers through her hair, whispering something Ryoichi couldn’t make out as his mother continued to have a faraway look in her eyes. 

“This isn’t going to be enough wood,” Ryoga said, taking a step back from the small fire.

Ranma looked at Akane’s arm, where the black mark had slowed in its fade, pulsing by her elbow. Looked back up at Ryoga, his eyes weary.

“The dojo,” said Ranma. “Plenty of wood.”

“Ranma,” Akane said in a scratchy voice. “We can’t—”

“Hey,” he said gently, smiling at her and tilting his head down again. “We’ve repaired it a million times. There’s not a scrap of original wood left in that floor. We can fix it again.”

Akane nodded weakly. Barely managed to turn her head to look up at Ryoga. “The dojo.”

Ryoga nodded grimly and took his son by the arm as they turned towards the dojo. Ryoichi heard them shout in twin voices, “ _Bakusai tenketsu!_ ”

A crash. The sound of creaking and splintering wood. Then Ryoga and Rantaro returned with armfuls of planks. The sight spurred the rest of the fighters to do the same. Mirai first, then Kuno. Yusuke. Shampoo and their family. Ukyo and her husband. All fetching wood, as much as they could carry. Adding it to the fire, Zentoshi’s dismembered body burning slowly.

Ryoichi, however, didn’t bother. He just stood in one place, staring at his parents. Still sitting in the same spot, looking only at each other, their foreheads touching again. He didn’t know what his father was saying. He wanted to know what his father was saying. He didn’t ask. He never would. 

There was a deep cut in Ryoichi’s forearm, but it didn’t bother him. Didn’t remember when it happened. There wasn’t even any pain. But the blood was sliding down his arm, over his hand, dripping on the ground. And he remained still, just watching his mother and father and the fire behind them.

“Ryoichi?”

He turned his head at the sound of his name. His Uncle Tofu, standing next to him. When did he get here? How long had it been? Ryoichi didn’t say anything, just stared up at his uncle in confusion.

Tofu smiled. “We need to take care of your arm.”

“It’s fine,” Ryoichi said in a quiet mumble. 

“It’s a pretty deep gash. Let me see.”

Reluctantly, Ryoichi lifted his right arm for his uncle to inspect. Tofu gently looked it over before asking Ryoichi to sit down. Ryoichi did so, and was surprised how good it felt to not be standing anymore. He had never been this exhausted in his life. His uncle opened a small kit he had brought with him and began cleaning the blood away from Ryoichi’s arm. Sterilized the skin.

“You haven’t had any stitches before, have you Ryoichi?” 

“No,” said Ryoichi. “The most I ever got hurt was when I broke my thumb when I was five.”

Tofu smiled, pulling out a pre-sterilized kit of needle and thread. “I remember that. But this is going to need about fifteen stitches, okay?”

“Is that a lot?”

“Depends,” said Tofu. “It will probably hurt.”

“That’s okay.”

Ryoichi gritted his teeth as he was sewed back together. It did hurt, but not as much as he expected. He kept looking over at his parents, who still hadn’t moved. He had a lot of questions. So many questions. But he couldn’t justify asking them now. 

“There we go,” Tofu said, snipping the thread as he finished the last suture. Rubbed some sort of salve over the line of thread, bandaged it with gauze. Then wrapped a white bandage along about half the length of Ryoichi’s forearm. He helped Ryoichi stand back up.

“Is, um—” Ryoichi blinked and shook his head slowly. His brain felt heavy. “Is anyone else hurt?”

“A few scrapes and bruises. Nothing major. Mirai busted her lip pretty good.”

“Mirai,” Ryoichi repeated. “Your daughter. She’s your daughter.”

“Yes?” Tofu squinted in confusion. “I’m not sure—.”

“Don’t you care? That she’s hurt?!”

“Ryoichi, she’s busted her lip plenty of times—”

“It’s true, Ryoichi,” Mirai said, running over after hearing her name. She grinned, even though her lip was swollen. “It’s no big deal.”

“You’re hurt! And your dad doesn’t even care!”

“Of course I care, Ryoichi—”

“Are you all right?” Mirai asked. “Normally you wouldn’t care. Hell, you’ve even busted my lip in a fight before.”

Ryoichi closed his eyes and shook his head fiercely. “I don’t know, I don’t know—”

He gave one quick glance over to his parents before shutting his eyes tight again. Tofu noticed and looked over to Ranma and Akane. 

“Ranma!”

Ranma looked up, although he didn’t remove his hand from Akane’s hair. “What is it?”

“Ryoichi’s hurt.”

Ranma went pale. “What? Ryoichi, what happened?”

Ryoichi opened his eyes, feeling a weight in his chest. “I just—I just cut my arm. No big deal.”

He held up the bandaged arm to show his dad, hoping it would alleviate Ranma’s concern.

“Stitches?” Ranma asked with an exhale.

Ryoichi nodded. “Fifteen.”

Ranma gave him a tired half grin. “I’ve been there. But you did good, Ryoichi. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Ryoichi whispered, feeling stupid and selfish.

It took a while, but the fire eventually burned out. Zentoshi was nothing but a pile of ash. Ranma looked Akane’s arm up and down. Nothing left of the mark except the thin white x-shaped scar on the back of her hand that had been there for twenty-five years. Ranma lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it softly.

“All right,” he said to Akane in a calm voice. “You wanna go inside? Rest?”

Shaking, she nodded. “I need to—I need to check on the girls. And Ryoichi.”

She stood up, still feeling unsteady on her feet. Ranma remained on the ground. She put a hand down to help him up. Wide-eyed, he looked up at her and clasped her hand. Akane couldn’t understand his expression. Holding onto her tight, he pulled himself upward, but she noticed he was bearing all his weight on one foot.

“Akane,” he said, his voice far away. “I can’t feel my leg.”

And then he passed out.


	31. Karma

_ When they were 4 _

"Hi-yahh!"

Soun stood in the doorway of the dojo watching Akane attempt to pummel a very small practice dummy she had made herself by tying a pillow to a stick. She was so young, but already so clever.

And so angry.

Ever since her mother had passed a few short months ago, he had watched Akane's temper become shorter, her tantrums increase in volume. Poor Kasumi tried to soothe her little sister during these episodes as well as she could. Sometimes it worked, other times Akane would just scream herself to sleep.

Soun watched Akane some more. She didn't even have a proper gi. She was wearing her bathrobe over a pair of sweatpants. When he had ended up with three daughters, he had thought his dreams of passing down the dojo were over.

Maybe not.

"Akane-chan."

Akane paused, turning to her father and glowering. "What?"

Soun walked over to his daughter and knelt down.

"Are you just playing or do you really want to learn martial arts?"

"I want to fight," she replied fiercely.

"Well, if you want to fight, you have to learn the right way so you don't get hurt," he replied. He reached down and grabbed her hand that was clenched into a tiny fist. Gently, he adjusted her grip so that her thumb rested on top of her knuckles. "Here. You have to keep your thumb on the outside or it will get broken."

She nodded, staring down at her now properly formed fist with determination. "Got it."

"Before you fight, Akane-chan, you have to learn the basics." With a grunt, he stood up and turned her by the shoulders to face the sign on the wall and pointed up at it. "There. What's that say?"

" _I. Ro. Ha,_ " she carefully sounded out. Even though she was so young, she already knew all her hiragana. 

"Do you know what that means?"

"What?"

"Fundamentals."

"What's that mean?"

"It means we begin at the beginning. Every house needs a foundation, Akane-chan." Soun put his arms behind his back, clasping his hands as he gazed up at the calligraphy. 

"And every martial artist needs good legs to stand on."

* * *

_ When they were 42 _

Akane sat on a chair in the hospital waiting room, staring ahead at nothing. There was a nurses station slightly to the right of her, but the spot her eyes were focusing and unfocusing on was nothing but a piece of blank white wall. On her left, was Ryoichi, and on her right, Ryoga. 

She hadn’t caught Ranma before he hit the dirt. But she was down there next to him, immediately. He was breathing. His heartbeat steady. Completely unconscious. Someone had called an ambulance. And then she was riding along inside, watching the EMTs test Ranma for various things, hook him up to tubes she didn’t know the purpose of. Then wheeling him into the emergency room and away, out of sight.

A nurse had guided her to a chair. Had her sit down. Akane’s legs were so tired, so she did. Ranma couldn’t even feel his leg. But she didn’t have the energy to stand again. She didn’t even look up when Ryoga arrived with her son and took seats on either side of her. She couldn’t even cry. Just kept swallowing the same lump in her throat over and over.

Phones were ringing. Hushed conversation. Equipment beeping. The clacking of keyboards. Footsteps on tile floor. Sneakers squeaking. They were all one big noise to her, the sound of a hospital. 

“Did you call his mom?” Akane asked after nearly an hour of silence. She was still staring straight ahead, so Ryoichi and Ryoga looked at each other over her head quickly, unsure of who she was asking.

“Uh, Gran’s at the house,” said Ryoichi. “Watching the girls. Said she and Grandpa would come see him when Dad wakes up.”

“ _If_ he wakes up,” Akane said in a flat tone

“Come on, Akane,” said Ryoga, trying desperately to smile. “He’s a cockroach, remember?”

Akane said nothing. Ryoga let out a sigh and faced forward, folding his hands over his stomach. 

“Akane!”

She looked up at the sound of her name accompanied by hurried footsteps. There in a long white coat, rushing towards her, was Toshiko. Ah, that’s right. She was the hospital administrator here. 

“Toshiko,” Akane said in a creaky voice. Somehow, she managed to stand right as Toshiko reached her, but her legs were weak. She clutched at Toshiko’s arms and the other woman held Akane upright.

“Akane, what happened?”

“It was—” Akane’s head was spinning. “Zentoshi. He resurrected himself somehow. Attacked the house. Me. Everyone. Ranma, he—he fought. He won, this time. And then he—he—”

Her voice was gone. She looked down at the floor, the space between her and Toshiko’s feet. 

“That’s all right, that’s all right,” said Toshiko calmly. She gently pushed Akane’s hair back from her face with one hand. “He’ll be okay.”

“Will he?” Akane asked. 

“Saotome-san.”

Akane turned, still holding onto Toshiko’s arms, to see another doctor. Grim faced, holding a clipboard. Another doctor next to him, in green surgical scrubs.

“Is it—is Ranma okay?”

“I wish I had better news for you, Saotome-san.”

Akane couldn’t understand what was said to her next. A rush of water and high pitched humming resounded in her ears. Then the doctor’s deep voice cut through with one single word.

“Amputate.”

“Wh—what?” she asked, turning around fully. “Amputate?”

“Yes. To just above the knee, unfortunately.”

Akane shook her head. “No. No, you can’t. Ranma gave up so much to keep his leg—”

“Saotome-san,” the doctor said firmly. “If we don’t amputate, and soon, there is an absolute certainty your husband will die.”

Akane felt her vision start to float. The doctor held out the clipboard to face her.

“As he is currently unconscious and unable to consent, we do need your permission to perform the procedure.”

Akane looked down at the paperwork. The pen the doctor held out to her. 

Ranma will die.

Trembling, she took the pen and signed her name on the form. The doctor nodded and turned away from her with the surgeon, disappearing behind a door. Akane tore herself away from Toshiko and sat down in the same chair, between Ryoichi and Ryoga, empty.

“Mom?” Ryoichi said, concerned.

Staring straight ahead, her eyes blank, she said, “I finally did something to make your father hate me.”

* * *

They made her shower. Toshiko had a private bathroom in her office. Her sister brought clean clothes to the hospital. Said the girls were fine, just worried about their dad. Akane didn't know what message she should have her sister pass on to her children. She said nothing. 

Toshiko sat Akane in a chair in front of her desk. Pulled up another chair to face her. Placed two cups of tea on the desk. Bandaged Akane's scraped up hands.

Everything was the same. Only now she was old, with gray hair and glasses. How had this all happened again?

She didn't drink the tea.

The surgery took hours. Back out in the waiting room with Ryoga and Ryoichi. Her son looked so tired. She realized then she had to hold it together, for him. Akane took a seat next to Ryoichi and sat on top of her calves so she could be tall enough to put an arm around his shoulders.

Ryoichi leaned his head against his mother and cried until he fell asleep.

"He shouldn't have had to fight," Akane whispered, the first thing she had said in hours. "He's just a kid."

Ryoga turned his head to look at her with tired but warm eyes, his arms folded over his chest. "So were you."

"I didn't want this for him. Any of our kids. Or Rantaro."

"It's not your fault, Akane."

"Isn't it?" Akane stared straight ahead again, leaning her cheek on top of Ryoichi's head. 

Ryoga opened his mouth to say something else, but the two doctors from earlier, now both in surgical scrubs, entered the waiting room.

"Saotome-san?"

Akane was on her feet instantly, jumping up to meet them as they approached.

"Is Ranma—" She licked her dry lips. "Is he okay?"

"The surgery went well. Other than his leg, his injuries were extremely minor. His recovery should go smoothly." The doctor attempted a comforting smile.

"But his leg is gone, isn't it?"

The doctor paused to take a breath before responding. "Most of it, yes. And he will need physical therapy."

"Ranma hates physical therapy," Akane said, feeling how stupid it was as soon as she said it. Giving her head a quick shake, she looked back up at the doctor. "Can I see him?"

"Of course. He is still asleep, but he is in his own room. You can wait with him until he wakes up."

"Can they come with me?" Akane said, indicating with a nod of her head to Ryoichi and Ryoga behind her.

The doctor hesitated. "We would prefer to keep it family only for now—"

"This is my son and my brother," Akane said, cutting him off crisply.

"Very well," the doctor said, nodding. He led them out of the waiting room and down the hallway and another hallway and another. Akane was dizzy, her head swimming.

The doctor finally arrived at a door and opened it, ushering them inside. Akane approached Ranma's bedside slowly. Rested just the tips of her fingers on the smooth plastic bed rail. Took in the sight of her husband.

Flat on his back. His hair loose, fanning out below his head. He hated having his hair loose. Always kept it tied back or braided. Pale teal hospital gown. Tubes sticking out of his arm, machinery beeping and hissing nearby.

He was breathing. He was asleep, but he was breathing. Steady. Rhythmic. 

Then she looked at the end of the bed. At the dip in the blanket where the rest of Ranma's right leg should be.

Dizziness overtook Akane again. There was a chair right next to the bed. She let herself sink down into it, her weight depressing the cushion of the seat. The doctor was saying something. Ryoichi and Ryoga were saying something back. Akane made out none of it. Kept her eyes on Ranma’s face. A face she knew better than her own. Every line, every scar, every freckle, every hair. 

He was alive. That’s what was important. He was alive, and he would see their children grow up. Nothing else mattered. 

Ranma began to stir. The doctor used the controls to raise the bed so he was sitting up slightly. Akane tensed in her chair, her spine straight. Slowly, slowly, slowly, Ranma opened his eyes and blinked. Eyes only half opened, he turned his head to the side. 

“Akane.”

His voice was a scratch. But he smiled out of pure reflex from seeing her face. 

“Ranma,” she whispered. Held back her tears as she clutched at the bed rail. 

He blinked a few more times, looking around the room. “Hospital, huh?”

“Yeah,” she replied. “You’re okay, though.”

He nodded and swallowed slowly. “I always am.”

Akane smiled, but her hands were shaking. 

Ranma narrowed his eyebrows. “Something’s wrong.”

Akane took a deep breath and held it in. Ranma opened his eyes fully, becoming more alert. And then he saw. Felt. Or didn’t feel. 

Wide-eyed, he looked down at the end of the bed. “My leg.”

“We had to perform an amputation, Saotome-san,” said the doctor, stepping forward. Akane didn’t look away from Ranma, even though he was still looking at the place his leg used to be. 

“You guys can’t just take my leg,” said Ranma. His voice was gaining in volume. Akane could see the anger rising through his spine, his muscles tightening. He shook his head. “I didn’t—I wouldn’t have let you!”

“Your wife signed the release, Saotome-san,” replied the doctor. 

Ranma turned his head to look down at Akane, glowering. In a barely audible voice, he asked, “You let them take my leg?”

The edges of Akane’s vision went white. She could see nothing except Ranma’s face, full of anger and contempt and exhaustion. There was nothing she could say. Nothing she could do. Her heart had stopped beating and time wasn’t moving. 

“You would have died, Dad!”

A high pitched hum cut through Akane’s mind and she was alert again, looking over her shoulder as her son stood behind her, clenching his fists. 

“I would have been fine,” snapped Ranma. “I’m always fine.”

“Not this time, Ranma,” said Ryoga, placing one large hand on Ryoichi’s shoulder. “You were—”

“I was fine!” Ranma shouted, slamming his hands down on the bed. Akane jerked back, startled by the impact. “They coulda just done another surgery! Not take the damn thing!”

The doctor put up one hand pleadingly. “It wasn’t feasible, Saotome-san—”

“Did you even try?!” Ranma demanded. “Or did you just do what was easiest?”

“Ranma,” Akane said softly. She reached out and touched the top of his hand. He immediately snatched his own hand back and turned his head away.

“Don’t touch me,” he grumbled. “Just go. I don’t want you here.”

Akane pulled her hand back to her chest. Ranma wasn’t looking at her. She wanted him to look at her. Please, Ranma, look at me.

Ryoichi’s voice cracked behind her. “Dad—”

“No, no, Ryoichi, it’s all right,” said Akane, standing up. She smoothed down the front of her blouse. Pushed her glasses up her nose. “I need to go home and check on your sisters anyway.”

Ryoga put a hand on her upper arm. “But Akane—”

“It’s fine,” she said, attempting a smile. “We should go. Ranma needs rest.”

“But—”

“Your mom will probably want to see you, Ranma,” Akane said. “I’ll send her up here once I get home.”

Ranma said nothing, just glared away from her at the wall.

Akane nodded. Turned to the men. “Come on, let’s go.”

Unsure, but not willing to upset her, both Ryoichi and Ryoga headed towards the door, Akane behind them. She paused in the frame and turned to look back over her shoulder. 

“I love you, Ranma,” she said.

Again he was silent. Akane didn’t react. Simply turned forward to follow her son and brother down the hallway, out of the hospital.

It was the first day in over twenty years that Ranma hadn’t said he loved her.

* * *

The house was still standing. Somehow, it always survived. There was a hole in the outer wall around the yard. The wooden gate doors still destroyed. But there had clearly been attempts at cleaning, most of the debris pushed into piles around the yard. The garden was destroyed, though, a couple of the smaller trees ripped up and lying on their sides. Puddles of black ooze and blood and a fine layer of white dust scattered everywhere. 

Akane paused for just a second to look it all over. The sun was setting behind the roof of the house. Things could have been worse.

"Mom!" Mitsuko ran up and jumped into Akane's arms as soon as she entered the house. Akane gave her a tight hug as she took off her shoes, Ryoga and Ryoichi doing the same next to her. Nodoka and Keiko appeared in the entryway, looking worried 

"Akane, you're home," said Nodoka. "How is Ranma?"

"Awake," said Akane, although both Ryoga and Ryoichi had attempted to speak first. "They had to amputate."

Nodoka covered her mouth with one hand.

"Amputate?" asked Keiko. "Like they cut his leg off?"

"Most of it," replied Akane. "From right above his knee."

"Other than that, is he—is he okay?" asked Nodoka.

Akane smiled, but didn't answer the question directly. "I think you and his dad should go see him."

Nodoka nodded and Akane carried Mitsuko on her hip as she headed to the living room, Ryoichi and Keiko following. Nodoka approached Ryoga as they were left alone and he stepped up onto the landing.

"Is Akane all right?" she asked in a soft voice. 

"I don't know," said Ryoga. "She's acting like she is, but—I don't know."

* * *

Nodoka and Genma left for the hospital as Akane settled in with the children. Nabiki had called and said she should be over the next day, unless Akane needed her then. Akane assured her she did not. 

"I have so much cleaning to do tomorrow," Akane said with a sigh as she sat at the table, Keiko and Mitsuko on either side. "It's going to be a lot of work."

"I'll help," said Mitsuko.

"Me too," said Keiko.

"Really?" asked Akane in gentle surprise.

Keiko nodded. "I wanted to renovate the garden anyway. I even drew up plans. Wanna see?"

"Of course."

Keiko beamed and ran upstairs to grab her notebook. Across the table from her, Rantaro, sitting next to Ryoichi, cleared his throat. 

"Um, there is some good news," he said quietly.

"What's that?" Akane asked.

"The, uh, the dojo is fixed already."

"Really?" Her eyebrows raised, her surprise genuine. 

Rantaro nodded. "Kuno asked his dad to pay for a contractor. They had a crew come in and it only took a couple hours. Floor is good as new."

A wistful smile crossed Akane's face. "Kuno, huh?"

"Here, Mom, look!" Keiko bounded back into the room and slapped her notebook on the table. She sat next to Akane and explained all her ideas with great enthusiasm. Akane gave her advice, helping Keiko with new ideas.

After, Mitsuko asked Akane to sit with her as she played her new game. Akane piled a bunch of cushions against the wall and leaned back with her daughter, watching the colors on the Switch flash.

"Ryoichi, bring me your English essay," Akane said after a half hour or so.

"Mom, you don't need to—"

"I promised. Now go on, bring it to me."

Still unsure, Ryoichi nodded and fetched his paper from upstairs. Akane took it and leaned back, adjusting her glasses. Read it over as Mitsuko remained curled up against her side. There were only a couple minor mistakes that Ryoichi fixed quickly.

Ryoga remained silent for much of the evening. Kept his eyes on Akane. She seemed tired, but otherwise normal. Then when Mitsuko let out a yawn, Akane sent all the kids to bed, Rantaro too, giving each of them a firm hug and saying I love you. 

Dread was growing in Ryoga's chest. Something was so wrong. So, so wrong.

After the kids were gone, Akane stood up and stretched her arms above her head. "Ah, I don't think I can sleep yet. What about you, Ryoga-kun?"

He shook his head. "Still a little wound up."

"Well." Akane put her hands on her hips. "Maybe I'll go work out in the dojo for a bit. Work off my energy. See the new floor."

She was smiling, but Ryoga didn't smile back. Gave her a small wave as she left the room.

Once alone, Ryoga let out a deep breath. Crossed his arms and rested his head on the table. Even though he was in a place he considered home, the night was dark and he felt lost.

* * *

Akane stepped one foot into the dojo. Then the other. Rantaro was right. It was good as new. And Ranma had been right, too. They had repaired this floor over and over again. The wood was cool and smooth and slick with polish, while her feet were callused and scarred. 

She walked to the center of the room. Took several deep breaths. Looked up at the framed calligraphy on the wall.

_Iroha_.

They had repaired every part of the dojo. The floors, the wall, the roof. But this single framed piece of parchment had remained undamaged since before she was even born.

There was a weight on her shoulders, pulling her down. Her knees hit the ground first, the thump against the wood muted by the fabric of her pants. She was still falling, sideways, tumbling over, exhausted. Now the wood was against her cheek. Under the palm of her hand. She could smell the varnish.

Her glasses were pushed painfully against the side of her face. She didn't care. She never wanted to move again.

Akane's chest shuddered as she inhaled deeply. All the air flowed out with a shaky whoosh.

And she finally, finally, started to cry.

* * *

Ranma was alone in his hospital room, unable to sleep. Even with the morphine he was hooked up to. Even with the sedatives they had given him. He simply sat up, leaning against the pillows in his bed, hating the way his loose hair felt around his neck but unwilling to lift his arms to braid it. He had turned off the television in the room after a nurse had turned it on after the dinner he didn’t eat, and used the remote attached to his bed which turned off the overhead light as well. The room was as dark as it could be, with the equipment next to his bed and the streetlights flooding through the window providing the only illumination. 

All he did was stare straight ahead at nothing. 

The nothing where his leg used to be.

His left leg was where it should be. Under the sheets and thin knit hospital blanket. 

His right leg, what was left of it, ending just above where his knee was supposed to be. The blankets dipped down after that, flat against the bed. 

Akane had let them take his leg. After everything he had done to keep the damn thing. Everything he had given up. The hell he had put his whole family through. He tried, so hard, every day of his life, to do the right thing. Why did this still end up happening?

Had he not just saved his wife’s life? The lives of however many people an immortal warlord would have taken? He had forgiven Ryoga. Took in his son. Dressed up as his wife to fool Keiko’s teacher. Supported Mitsuko telling him the hardest thing she had to say in her short life. Encouraged Ryoichi to chase after the boy he loved.

He was moving backwards in time. He was thirty-eight, on his anniversary in Hawaii. Thirty-three, retracting his ban on martial arts as Akane told him she was pregnant. Thirty-two, slapping his winnings onto the table in front of Nabiki. Still thirty-two, giving a whole layer of cake to his competitor, nearly losing. Thirty, crying into Akane’s arms about what a failure he was. Hard days, harder days, working in a bakery, what was he thinking, just wanting to provide for his family. Making funeral arrangements for Akane’s father. Holding her after she received the news he died. 

Further.

Ryoichi being born. Akane sweaty and exhausted and smiling. Akane, dancing with him at Ryoga’s wedding, just for a few minutes, even though she was seven months pregnant and her feet were swollen. Akane, graduating university with top marks, beaming and taking pictures. Akane, in bed next to him, her face scrunched up as she tried to figure out how to get Nabiki and Ryoga together. 

Further.

Their honeymoon. Akane, flowers in her hair. Akane at Kasumi’s wedding, too afraid to speak. Akane, on top of him, saying I love you for the first time. I love you, Akane. I’ve always loved you. Hurting his leg in the first damn place, not paying attention and getting crushed by a boulder. Fighting monsters under a mountain. 

Further.

Akane, dead in his arms. Akane, disappeared. Fighting monsters under another mountain. Akane, hiding him from his mother. Akane, playing Juliet to his Romeo. Akane, her hand clinging onto his during an ice skating match. Akane, her hair shorn because she was in the middle of one of his fights. Akane, her hair long, fighting a crowd of stupid boys who never had a chance. Akane, throwing punches at him in the dojo.

Akane smiling at him.

“I’m Akane. You wanna be friends?”

He rushed forward in time again. He had been cruel. He had been arrogant. Pesky. Lied and lied and lied and lied. 

But somehow, she still loved him. 

And he had become a better man because of it. He had tried to love her half as much as she loved him. Kissed her and kissed her and kissed her and kissed her. On her lap, thinking he was a cat. Through a piece of tape, during a school play. On the floor of the dojo, enthusiastic and smiling. At their wedding, under the banyan tree. Spinning her around, into his arms, her hair fluttering. In a dress. In her gi. In a sweater. In her skirt. In her pajamas. In nothing at all. 

He loved his wife.  He loved his children. 

Their smiling faces. Their sense of humor. How smart they were, how loving, how loyal. How kind and passionate and silly and weird.

And he loved his friends.

And they loved him.

They had shown up. Fought for him. Fought with him. People he had known for years, at his side. An army of people he loved who loved him back.

And at that moment, in the dark in his hospital room, his leg gone, none of it mattered. 

Not a single fucking thing he had ever done prevented this. It had all led up to it. This was it. Where everything ended. It didn’t matter how much he loved anyone else. How kind he had been, how strong. How long he stood on his feet mixing cakes, burning his fingers on hot pans, how much he kissed his wife, how gently he treated his children. 

Ranma closed his eyes.

He was finished.


	32. Us

_When they were 42_

Ryoga was still alone in the living room. Akane still hadn’t come back inside. He was getting antsy, his twitter feed becoming repetitive. Maybe he should go work out with her. Gave the tabletop a quick tap with his fingers and stood up to head out to the dojo. It was one of those times he got lucky, didn’t get lost. 

The light was on, but he didn’t hear any noise. Stepping up, he slid open the door. 

Akane was in a heap, curled in on herself, in the middle of the floor. Ryoga dashed to her side in an instant, kneeling next to her. 

“Akane!”

She was breathing. Crying. But her eyes didn’t move to focus on him. They weren’t focused on anything at all. Ryoga rested a hand on her shoulder. Softened his voice.

“Akane?”

“Leave, Ryoga,” she whispered, still unmoving, still not looking at him.

“You know I can’t do that.”

“He hates me.”

“He does not.”

“He does,” she said, her voice thick as it moved out of the whisper. “I saw it.”

Ryoga sat fully on the ground in front of her, crossing his legs. “He does not hate you.”

“It’s my fault,” she said. “It’s all my fault. It’s my fault. It’s my fault!”

“No—”

“I was stupid! And didn’t pay attention! It was all my fault and it still is my fault! Everything everything everything is my fault!”

Ryoga grabbed Akane by her upper arms and forced her to sit up. Her head still hung low, as if her neck was overstretched elastic. “It’s not true.”

“I can’t do it anymore, Ryoga,” she said, her voice dropping back to a whisper.

“Do what?”

“Anything.”

She slumped forward and he caught her against his chest. No doubt she was exhausted. Ryoga gathered Akane up in his arms and picked her up easily, carrying her inside. Put her in her bedroom, on the bed she shared with Ranma. Took off her glasses and set them on the nightstand. 

Always short. Always petite. Akane looked even smaller now as he straightened up and stood at the end of the bed. She was a month older than him, but he felt like he had a little sister. And Ryoga, like everyone else in the house, was very protective of his family. 

* * *

The clock on the wall ticked away the seconds, audible even over the sounds of the monitors and other machines hooked up to Ranma. It was still dark. Late. And he still didn’t feel sleepy at all. He tried to focus on the ticking. Hoped maybe it would bore him into slumber. 

Things were quiet, at least. He didn’t have any energy left to deal with anyone or anything.

_BAM._

The door to Ranma’s room slammed open, revealing an out of breath Ryoga, looking furious. Ryoga slammed the light switch on and marched over to Ranma’s bed, panting.

“Ryoga?” asked Ranma, wrinkling his nose. “What are you doing here? It’s late as hell.”

“I had Tofu bring me to the hospital,” Ryoga said, gripping the bed rail. “And then Toshiko let me in and brought me up here.”

“But why?”

Ryoga shook his head. “I can’t believe I have to do this again.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Ranma snapped. 

“I’m here to help you solve all your problems.” Ryoga patted the bed rail, smiling.

Ranma rolled his eyes. “Unless you can grow my leg back, I really doubt it.”

“That’s not something I can do,” said Ryoga. “But I am here to talk about Akane.”

Ranma turned his head sharply away from him. Stared at the wall, frowning. “What about Akane?”

“Do you know what she did after you kicked her out of here?”

“What?” Ranma asked, waving one hand dismissively, still not looking at Ryoga. 

“She went home. She took care of your children. She helped Keiko with her garden plans. Watched Mitsuko play her game. Looked over Ryoichi’s English essay. Sent them all to bed with a hug and an I love you.”

“Same thing she always does,” muttered Ranma, crossing his arms, defiantly keeping his gaze on the wall. 

“No. Not the same,” said Ryoga in a firm tone. “Akane told me she was going out to the dojo, stretch, work out some energy.”

“Must be nice,” Ranma muttered again.

“Shut up,” snapped Ryoga. Ranma whipped his head around, glaring at him. Ryoga returned the glare, not backing down. “Listen.”

“Go on, then.”

“She was out there a while. I couldn’t sleep. I went out there to check on her.”

“Didn’t get lost for once?”

“I said shut up,” Ryoga growled. Ranma closed his mouth, but kept frowning. “Do you know what she was doing out there, Ranma?”

“Martial arts?” Ranma asked with an annoyed sigh. 

“No,” said Ryoga. “She wasn’t doing anything at all.”

Ranma looked at him out of the corner of his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“She was just lying there, on the floor, like a baby. I thought maybe she was hurt, but she wasn’t. All she did was cry, for a long time. Wouldn’t even sit up.”

“What’s your point?” Ranma said, although he couldn’t meet Ryoga’s eyes again. 

“She said horrible things. About herself. It scared me. Ranma—” Ryoga took a deep breath, curling his fingers around the bed rail. “She thinks it’s her fault.”

“It is her fault!” Ranma exploded, slamming his hand against the mattress, making a muted thump. “It is! I wouldn’t have hurt my stupid leg in the first place if I hadn’t been saving her!”

“Oh please!” Ryoga shouted back. “You lost that fight, remember?! Akane was the one who won. She saved herself, and then she saved your useless ass. She carried you up and out and down a mountain even though she was exhausted and traumatized and broken down!”

“So what?” cried Ranma, although his voice was shaking. “I was only there to keep her safe—”

“Bullshit!” spat Ryoga. “You were there because you didn’t think Akane was good enough, and you wanted to show her you were better.”

Ranma stared up at him, shocked, speechless for a long while. He turned his head, looked down at his lap. “So, what, then? I’m supposed to feel bad for her? I’m the one who lost my leg.”

“I know,” said Ryoga, in a much calmer tone. “I know. You’re angry. And depressed. And—and grieving. I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve any of this, Ranma. It wasn’t fair.”

“Grieving,” Ranma repeated softly. “I’m grieving.”

“Yeah.”

They were quiet for a little while. Ranma fidgeted with the blanket, wrapping and unwrapping the hem around his fingers. The machines he was hooked up to occasionally hissed or hummed or clicked, making sure he stayed alive. 

“You know,” Ranma said, at long last. “I really, really hate it when you’re right.”

Ryoga attempted to suppress his grin. “I know you do.”

“I’m selfish, huh?”

“No,” said Ryoga. “It’s like you said, you’re the one who lost a leg.”

Ranma nodded, pushing tears out of his eyes. “Akane was always the one to hold everything together, you know? Always working to help the two of us.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” said Ranma, smiling while his gaze floated away from Ryoga. “She went to college so she could run the dojo better. And when I couldn’t do martial arts anymore, she changed her whole life for me. Used her degree to start planning events. It was her idea to have me start baking the cakes. She does all the accounting for the bakery. She’s the one who asked Nabiki for money to start the thing, and then it was her idea for me to do those competitions to pay her back. And she was raising my children, and I have twins, Ryoga! Twins!”

“I’m very aware,” Ryoga said, smiling. 

“She loves our kids,” said Ranma. “I don’t know anybody who loves another person as much as she loves our kids.”

“She loves you just as much, I think,” Ryoga said, taking a seat on the side of the bed at an angle where he could face Ranma. 

“I wouldn’t have anything, if it wasn’t for her,” Ranma said. “Do you think she’ll ever forgive me?”

“I do,” said Ryoga, folding his arms over his chest. “I’m sure she understands. She always does.”

Ranma gave him a genuine, but lopsided smile. “How’d you get to be so smart, P-chan?”

Ryoga shrugged, arms still crossed. “I honestly have no idea.”

The two old friends laughed together, in the same way they had years ago. 

“All right,” said Ryoga, standing up with a stretch. “It’s late. You gotta rest.”

“Not sleepy,” said Ranma. “Hand me my phone?”

“Sure.” Ryoga picked it up off the side table that had been rolled away from Ranma and handed it over. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Don’t get lost on your way home,” Ranma said as Ryoga walked over to the door.

“Oh, I definitely am going to get lost the second I step out of this room,” Ryoga replied with a smile. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

The door clicked closed behind Ryoga and Ranma sank back down into his bed, lifting his phone close to his face. It took him a moment to find the right distance in order for him to be able to read the screen. Akane had been right, as always. He needed glasses.

He opened instagram, which he hadn’t done since Akane first installed it on his phone years ago. The only person he was following was Akane, so he scrolled through her profile. Pictures of all the weddings and parties she had planned. Pictures of their vacation. Selfies. Pictures of the two of them together. He flicked through the screen, heading back in time until he found what he was looking for.

The picture of them on their twentieth anniversary. 

**anything.goes.akane** _Talk about a throwback! Twenty years with the one I love most! #乱あ_

Ranma tapped on the hashtag.

He was greeted by another grid of pictures, mostly from Akane, but some not. Some seemed to be fans of the bakery, and had posted pictures of the storefront. Some were pictures of television screens bearing Ranma’s image, accompanied by heart eyes emojis. There were even a few pictures of him and Akane together, after she would join him at the end of a competition. There was one picture, quite good quality, of him, during one of those competitions, preparing a cake. This one was posted by Akane. 

**anything.goes.akane** _I was in the audience for this one, right in the front row. A woman asked me “Is that your husband?” I didn’t want to take my eyes off of him, not for a single second, but I turned to her to be polite. “Yes,” I said. “He’s so handsome,” she told me. “You’re so lucky.”_

_I know. I know. I know. I am luckier than anyone in the world. But not just because he’s handsome. He’s kind. He’s hard working. He’s goofy and strong. You’ve never met a more loving human being in your life. Lucky doesn’t even begin to describe it. Ranma, I love you. Forever. #untilweareoldandgray #乱あ #truelove #hotbakerdaddy_

Ranma bit down on his lip as he grinned at his phone screen, tears forming in his eyes. 

_Add a comment…_

Ranma tapped the empty space next to the ellipsis and typed carefully. And for the first time in his entire life, he posted a comment on the internet.

* * *

Akane begrudgingly opened her eyes, her head pounding, her throat dry. Ryoga had carried her to bed after he found her nearly catatonic on the dojo floor. She was still in her day clothes. Had never changed after she came home from the hospital. Ryoga had at least managed to get her glasses off, set them on the nightstand. 

She didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to do anything. But Ranma was in the hospital, and the kids would be up soon. And she wasn’t sure if she had dreamed it, but she thought her phone had been vibrating all night.

_Brrrr brrr._

It had done it again. Squinting, Akane reached over and pulled her phone off the charger, bringing it close to her face so she didn’t have to put her glasses on. 

Sixty-three notifications. She frowned. Had something happened to Ranma?

She swiped the screen, opening her phone. They were all from instagram. What? She hadn’t posted anything in a long time. Some kind of spam.

But then she noticed the username.

**saotome.ranma**

She furrowed her eyebrows. Had somebody hacked him? She tapped on the notification.

**saotome.ranma** commented: _I love you_

**saotome.ranma** commented: _I love you_

**saotome.ranma** commented: _I love you_

  
  


Over and over again, sixty more times. All on different pictures. Akane sat up in bed, smiling and crying as she scrolled through her feed. No doubt Ranma had typed each of these out individually, and he was a slow typer. And he had done it sixty-three times.

_Brrr brrr._

Sixty-four.

“Dummy,” Akane whispered, her voice full of adoration. Quickly, she wiped her face with her shirt sleeve and threw her legs over the side of the bed. Feeling better than she had in years, she ran out of her bedroom and down the hallway, sliding past Ryoichi who was standing in front of the bathroom, holding his toothbrush.

“Mom?” he asked sleepily.

“I have to go!” Akane called over her shoulder, slipping her sneakers on in front of the door. “Cook breakfast for your sisters, will you please?”

He nodded. “Sure.”

“Thanks. I love you!”

“Love you too.”

Akane smiled and hurried outside. It was still morning, and the summer day wasn’t too hot yet. The hospital wasn’t far, so she ran. With a deep breath, she leapt off of the sidewalk and onto the nearest rooftop, knowing it would take less time if she hopped from building to building instead of weaving her way through the streets. 

She was at the hospital. Blowing past the front desk. Skipping the elevator. Flying up the stairs. Down the hallway to Ranma’s room. The door was partially open, and she slid inside, her sneakers squeaking on the tile.

Ranma had his hair over one shoulder, his fingers entangled in the middle of a braid, a hair tie dangling from the corner of his mouth. A nurse stood by his bedside, checking the fluids in his IV stand. His face brightened up at the sight of Akane and he beamed, the hair tie dropping down into his lap. 

“Akane!” he said cheerfully. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Akane said, a shaky smile forming on her face. The nurse made a note in Ranma’s chart and then left the room. Ranma quickly tied off his braid and held his hand out towards Akane. Trembling, she took it, moving forward to sit on the edge of his bed. “How do you—are you feeling okay?”

He gave her a half shrug and a crooked grin. “Well, I’m missing half my leg, but what can you do?”

Akane pressed her lips together, smiling even as tears formed in her eyes. She put her other hand on top of his and squeezed. “Ranma—”

“Hey,” he said, cutting her off. He lifted his free hand to rest his palm against her cheek, the tips of his fingers in her hair. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Akane said with a small shake of her head. Ranma’s hand felt so warm on her face. “You were in shock, and hurting—”

“Didn’t mean I had to hurt you,” Ranma said. “So I’m sorry.”

“It was my fault—”

“Absolutely not,” Ranma asserted. “Ryoga made that very clear to me last night.”

Akane crinkled her eyebrows. “Ryoga?”

“He came up here last night and talked some sense into me.”

“Did he?” Akane let her eyes scan Ranma’s face, over and over again. He dropped his hand back into his lap. 

“Oh yeah.” Ranma pulled Akane towards him, until she was sitting all the way on the bed, pulling her legs up, her head against his chest. She closed her eyes and listened to his heartbeat. He kept his arm around her, tracing circles on her lower back with his fingers. “I owe Rantaro a debt, I guess.”

“Rantaro?”

“If he had never come to visit, Ryoga would have never come to get him. And then the kids never would have tricked us into being friends again. And then he never would have come up here and fixed all my problems again.”

Akane kept her eyes closed, feeling Ranma’s chest rise and fall with his breathing. “He’s my best friend.”

“Mine too.”

Akane turned her head, hiding her face in Ranma’s chest, feeling unstoppable tears rising in her throat. Her glasses were squished against her nose, but she didn’t care. “Ranma.”

“What?”

“You—you commented on my _instagram_ ,” she sobbed, her voice cracking.

He let out a surprised chuckle. “I did. It was very frustrating. But the kids can’t call me a boomer now.”

Akane started laughing, still sobbing, still pressed against Ranma’s chest. Ranma held her tight, crying a little bit himself. It was a while before she was able to sit up, lean back, look him in the eye. She sniffled. 

“I love you,” said Akane.

“I love you too,” said Ranma.

He pushed her hair out of her face with one hand and tilted his forehead against hers. Kept his fingers entwined in her hair as he whispered, “Until we’re old and gray.”

Akane could hear her own heartbeat this time as her husband smiled at her. She moved forward and closed the gap between them, kissing Ranma deeply. As strong as ever, he wrapped his arms around her tightly while the machine monitoring his pulse started to beep loudly and quickly. They ignored the sound, lost in each other, smiles at the edges of their lips as their mouths remained pressed together. 

“Dad! Dad!”

The door to the room opened wide, and Ranma reluctantly released Akane as Keiko and Mitsuko barreled inside. His mother, father, Ryoichi, and even Ryoga and Nabiki all followed. Akane slid down into the chair next to the bed as Mitsuko and Keiko hopped up onto the bed and hugged their father.

“Hey guys,” Ranma said, smiling, returning the hugs. Keiko settled in his lap and Mitsuko at his side, holding onto his arm. 

“Sorry, Ranma,” his mother said with an apologetic smile. “They harassed me until I brought them here.

“Chanting,” said Ryoga, his arm around Nabiki’s shoulders. “You know how they get.”

“Mom said they cut off your leg,” Keiko said, pushing her glasses up her nose. “Can we see it?”

“Technically there’s nothing there to see,” Ranma replied, nodding towards the end of the bed. He pulled the blanket up to reveal what was left of his leg, neatly wrapped in white bandages. 

“Wow,” said Keiko. “Does it hurt?”

“You know,” said Ranma, cocking his head to the side. “Not as much as it used to.”

“Probably because of the morphine,” Nabiki said, tapping the bag on the IV stand.

“Actually—” Ranma hesitated. “I ran out of that sometime last night, and it took them a while to replace it. And it still didn’t—it didn’t hurt that bad.”

“Well you gotta get out of here soon, Ranma,” said Nabiki. “Our wedding is on Saturday.”

“Shit,” said Ranma under his breath. “I gotta make a cake.”

“I’ll make the cake, Ranma,” Nodoka said. “Hiroshi will help.”

“But he’s not as good as me,” Ranma scoffed.

“Am I not as good as you?” his mother asked with the quirk of an eyebrow. 

“Be nice to me, I lost a leg,” Ranma muttered. 

“Saotome-san!”

The small crowd parted as the doctor, the same man from the day before, entered the room. He picked up Ranma’s chart from the end of the bed and flipped through the paperwork quickly. “How are we feeling today?”

“I dunno about you, but I feel like there’s something missing,” Ranma replied with a straight face. “Maybe you can fill me in.”

Ryoga rolled his eyes. Akane smiled broadly. Keiko, Mitsuko, and Ryoichi all laughed at their father’s joke. Nabiki put one hand against her forehead and stared at the floor in exasperation. Genma scrunched up his nose. Nodoka smiled politely. 

“Ah, good enough to attempt a joke, that’s a good sign,” the doctor said. He held the clipboard flat against the front of his stomach with both hands. “Now, we do have some things to discuss. Wound care, physical therapy, things like that.”

“I hate physical therapy,” Ranma muttered.

“Nonetheless, it will be necessary. Also, we would probably be able to get you fitted for a prosthetic pretty soon.”

“Like a peg leg?” Ranma asked with a grin. 

The doctor laughed. “Hardly. Some of the prosthetics available today are incredibly advanced. They have tiny computers in the joints. So smart they can anticipate the exact angle you’ll hit the ground. Honestly they’re almost better than the real thing.”

Ranma was quiet for a long moment before responding.

“Doc,” he said hesitantly. “With a leg like that, would I be able to do martial arts?”

Akane breathed in sharply. Wide-eyed, she turned to look at Ranma, sitting up straight, her shoulders snapping back into place. 

The doctor tilted his head from side to side, looking Ranma up and down. “I don’t see why not. You’re in pretty good shape. Must do a lot of sit-ups, huh?”

“Well yeah,” Ranma said, patting his stomach. “Gotta keep it tight.”

Akane placed one hand over her mouth. Her eyes shut tight and her whole body started shaking with uncontrollable laughter while tears poured out of her eyes.

“It will take you a while, Saotome-san,” continued the doctor. “You will need rehab, physical therapy, hopefully nothing goes wrong with the incision healing. But in six months, I believe we’ll have you all set.”

“Pfft,” Ranma said, bouncing Keiko on his lap. “More like six weeks.”

The doctor lowered his eyebrows. “That’s not really how it works, Saotome-san—”

Ranma grinned. “It is for me.”

The doctor sighed. “Saotome-san—”

“I wouldn’t underestimate him.” 

This was Toshiko, entering the room, her white coat rippling at the bottom as he moved. Smiling, she approached Ranma’s bedside. Paused and took a look at his family gathered around. Turned back to him. 

“Well,” she said. “This is familiar, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” said Ranma. “A little.”

“And Akane,” said Toshiko, turning to look down at her. “How are you doing?”

“I’m all right, sensei,” Akane replied. “Really.”

Toshiko nodded. Turned back to the doctor. “He’s going to need two.”

“What?” the doctor asked, confused. 

“Sometimes he’s about a foot shorter than he currently is,” Toshiko said, smiling. “So he’s going to need two legs.”

The doctor looked past her at Ranma’s bright white grin. His daughters, grinning too. Turned his attention back to Toshiko. 

“All right,” he said. “We’ll get started as soon as possible.”


	33. The Blowout

_ When they were 42 _

“You’re okay? For the whole time?”

“Yes,” Ranma said in exasperation. “Don’t be such a worrywart.”

“I’m sorry,” said Ryoga. “They just let you out of the hospital yesterday.”

“It’s fine,” Ranma replied. They were standing in front of rows of chairs in the smaller room next to the Imperial Ballroom where the ceremony was being held. He tapped his ankle with his cane and hiked up the leg of his tuxedo trousers. “See? They gave me a temporary one, but it’s pretty solid. The robot one is gonna take a while, though. Apparently, it’s pretty expensive.”

Ryoga softened his gaze. Folded his hands together in front of him. “Ranma, I can pay for it.”

Ranma smiled. “Aw, Ryoga—”

“Don’t be too proud, Ranma,” Ryoga said. “I mean it.”

“Oh no, I wasn’t being proud,” Ranma said. “You should definitely pay for it. You’re way richer than me.”

Ryoga laughed and clapped him on the back. “I should’ve known.”

“You really should have.”

Ryoga leaned forward to look at Rantaro, standing on the other side of Ranma. His son was also dressed in a black tuxedo, his bandanna removed for the time being. Rantaro’s jaw was clenched tightly, his gaze steady.

“You all right, Rantaro?”

Rantaro simply nodded without saying anything, keeping his eyes straight ahead. Ryoga sighed and looked back to Ranma. 

“Should I have asked Tofu? You know, Kasumi and Akane are the bridesmaids, and then we could all pair up—”

“Yeah, but Rantaro’s your son,” said Ranma. “Of course you want him up here.”

“Right.” Ryoga let out a sigh. “You as my best man, and Rantaro as—best boy? Best son?”

“Groomsman,” said Ranma, familiar with wedding terminology from years of listening to Akane plan the things. 

“I don’t understand western weddings, Ranma.”

“You already had one.”

“It wasn’t this western.”

Yuka approached them, holding a binder to her chest. “We’re going to let the guests in and get seated. You guys need to go in the back and wait until they’re all here.”

“What?” Ryoga scrunched up his face. “Why?”

“Because,” Yuka replied. “It’s how it’s done.”

Ryoga grumbled, but shuffled off with a quiet Rantaro and an upbeat Ranma. Yuka began to usher in the guests, showing them their seats. 

“Who are all these people?” Nabiki asked, peeking through the door from her place in the hallway behind the ceremony room. 

“Your wedding guests,” Akane said cheerfully, adjusting her bouquet in her hands. “You said you wanted a blowout.”

Nabiki turned back to her. Her dress was an impressive, round, space consuming white ballgown with a long train. “Okay, but who are they?”

“Well, you know,” said Akane, ticking names off on the fingers of one hand. “Like we said before. Tofu, all the kids. Mamoru, Ami’s family, Tadashi. Akemi.”

“Uh-huh,” nodded Nabiki. “And?”

“And,” continued Akane. “Ukyo. Her husband. Their kids.”

“Aw, is Aiko home from college?” Kasumi, standing out of the way of Nabiki’s dress, asked sweetly. “Kenshi will be so happy.”

Akane nodded. “Shampoo. Mousse. All twelve of their kids. Hiroshi. Ryoichi’s friends, Sakura and Takeshi. And Kuno and his wife and son.”

“Kuno-chan’s here?” Nabiki asked with a tiny smile. “That’s kinda nice.”

“The kendo club. The literature club.”

“That’s a lot of high schoolers, Akane,” Nabiki said. 

“And Toshiko and Shizuka,” Akane asserted. “And a bunch of patients from Tofu’s clinic. Akito and his boyfriend. Some of my students from the dojo. Oh, and the town council and all of their families.”

“Town council?” asked Nabiki in surprise.

“Sure. Ranma’s been on the town council for ten years.”

Nabiki blinked. “All right. And you got all of these people to come to the wedding for me?”

“Well,” said Akane, touching the arm of her glasses. “People will do anything for free pizza.”

“Pizza?” Nabiki asked in a whisper.

Akane grinned. “Yeah. I called up your favorite pizzeria in New York and flew the whole staff and everything they needed out here. They were very excited for a free trip to Japan.”

“Wasn’t that expensive?” Nabiki asked with genuine fear.

“I don’t know,” Akane shrugged. “Ryoga paid for it.”

Nabiki’s bottom lip quivered as she held in a tearful smile. “I’m marrying the right guy, huh?”

“Absolutely,” Kasumi said earnestly, giving her sister a one armed hug around her shoulders.

“It was weird, though,” Akane said, tilting her head to the side. “They insisted on bringing about five gallons of New York city tap water. It was kinda hard to get it past security.”

“It’s what makes the pizza taste good, Akane,” Nabiki said. She inhaled deeply. Straightened her spine. Carefully adjusted her hair with her fingertips, being careful not to mess her makeup. “This is going to be the best wedding ever.”

* * *

The guests were seated. Ryoga, Ranma, and Rantaro were led back to their places by the altar. Music started playing. Keiko and Mitsuko pranced out, both flower girls, flowers in their hair, throwing petals around enthusiastically. Little Sora as the ring bearer behind them. 

Akane made her way down the aisle after. Ranma felt his heart thump in his chest when he looked at her, just like when they had eloped for their own wedding. She was just as beautiful now, although her dress was different. Her body was different. Her face, her hair, all just a tiny bit changed. In his opinion, though, she was even better. And she was smiling right back at him the whole way.

Then Kasumi followed, graceful and elegant, her own husband in the rows of guests, trying to remain standing upright, Mirai supporting his back.

The music swelled. Nabiki appeared, arm in arm with Genma as she walked down the aisle. The smirk on her face was extremely smug and purely happy at the same time. Her dress brushed against the edges of the chairs as she walked, but she didn’t notice. Ranma cast a sideways glance at Ryoga, noticing the dopey look all over his friend’s face. Genma patted Nabiki's hand wistfully, bowing deeply to Ryoga once they reached the altar. Ryoga returned the bow, just as deeply.

Nabiki passed her bouquet to Kasumi and held Ryoga’s hands as they stood at the altar together. Ranma kept his eyes locked on Akane while the pastor began to speak. 

“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.”

Nabiki scrunched her face up, biting down on her lip, trying not to cry. Her voice cracked as she looked over her shoulder at Akane. “It’s so corny! Akane, how did you get something so corny?”

“You wanted the big cliché wedding,” Akane replied. “You want a big cliché wedding, you get the one Corinthians.”

“None of us are Christian,” Rantaro muttered. 

Ranma elbowed him gently. “Shh! It’s still nice.”

“It is nice,” said Ryoga, smiling genuinely at Nabiki. “Don’t you think?”

“I do,” she said, bobbing her head up and down in a nod. Her breaths were short as she tried to hold in her crying, which wasn’t working, and tears began to stream down her face. “It’s really nice! I love you!”

“I love you too,” Ryoga said, his voice full of patience.

“Shall we continue?” the pastor asked. Everyone in the room nodded all at once, even the guests. 

Vows. Rings. A kiss. They were married, and Nabiki cheered loudest of all. 

Everyone moved into the ballroom. Champagne bottles popped, the band began to play. Pizza was handed out. No pepperoni, as Ryoga had requested no pork. But there was plenty of cheese and sausage, while anything with green peppers went largely untouched. 

A beautiful cake, baked by Nodoka and decorated by Hiroshi, although Ranma asserted it wasn’t as good of a job as he would have done. Speeches by the bridesmaids and the groomsmen. Ryoichi had written Rantaro’s speech, but no one needed to know that. 

Ranma sat with Ryoga at a nearly empty table as Genma danced with Nabiki. They had grown quite close after living together in New York.

"I'm sorry your father couldn't be here today," Genma told her earnestly as they slowly swayed on the dance floor. "But I'm grateful you let me stand in."

"Thank—you—" Nabiki squeaked out, her eyes threatening to overflow with tears.

Although Ryoga couldn't hear what was being said while he was over at the table, it was clear his new wife was deeply touched, nodding as Genma smiled and said something kind.

"Your dad's really gotten nice in his old age, huh?" he said to Ranma, leaning against the back of his chair. 

"Oh yeah," said Ranma, leaning forward in his own chair, resting his hands on top of his cane. "Obviously he saw what a great dad I was and didn't want to be shown up."

Ryoga laughed. "I'm sure that's it. You are a pretty good dad."

"Best dad I ever had," said Ryoichi, as he and Rantaro joined them at the table, each bearing a plate with a slice of cake.

"And don't you forget it," Ranma said, grinning as he turned around to face them. "So, Rantaro, you gonna stay with us for the summer while your dad's on his honeymoon?"

"Um." Rantaro quickly swallowed a mouthful of cake and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Actually, my mom and Koji want me to stay with them for the summer."

"Koji?" asked Ranma.

"My stepdad," Rantaro replied as Ryoga braced himself.

"Koji," Ranma repeated in dawning realization. A gigantic smile formed on his face as he turned to a scowling Ryoga. "The clock kid? With the whips?"

Rantaro knitted his eyebrows together. "I guess so."

"Ryoga," said Ranma, his voice overcome with amusement. "Akari married _the clock kid_? _!_ "

"Shut up, Ranma."

"No, no, no, that is _amazing_ —"

"Shut _up_ , Ranma!"

"This is the greatest day of my _life_ —"

" _Shut up, Ranma!_ "

Nabiki ended her dance with Genma and grabbed a glass of champagne as she swanned over to the table where her sisters were sitting. With a contented sigh, she sank down into a chair, the skirt of her gown billowing outwards and upwards.

“This is such a great wedding, Akane,” she said, gulping down half the glass of champagne. “I had no idea you were such a great wedding planner.”

“Then why did you hire me?” Akane asked with an air of exasperation.

“Oh, you know.” Nabiki waved one hand and finished the champagne. “I thought it would be funny.”

“Of course you did,” Akane retorted. 

“But I’m serious!” Nabiki slapped the table with her palm. “This is amazing! You—you’re—this is so nice!”

Her voice wavering, she broke into high pitched sobs. Kasumi leaned over and dabbed at Nabiki’s face with a cloth napkin. 

“Are you drunk?” Kasumi asked.

“Only a little!” Nabiki cried, grabbing the napkin before bursting into sobs again. 

“Nabiki Tendo?”

She turned around in her chair, looking up to see Tatewaki Kuno smiling down at her, standing next to a pleasant faced woman with short hair.

“Kuno-chan,” she whispered, her voice still shaking.

“I wanted to offer my heartiest congratulations,” he said. “And I don’t think you’ve met my wife—”

“Kuno-chan!” Nabiki screamed-sobbed, launching herself upwards and throwing her arms around his middle. Hugging him tight enough to squeeze a little air out of his lungs, she continued crying. “You—you—you came to my wedding!”

“Indeed,” he wheezed out. Awkwardly, he raised one hand to pat her on the back. “And a quite nice one it is, too.”

Meanwhile, Ryoichi had returned from a trip to the bathrooms and was now pacing the edges of the room. Rantaro was talking with their other friends, enjoying himself at their table. Ryoichi was trying to psych himself up into asking him to dance. Why not? They had danced together before. A lot! All the time! Why not now? In front of all their friends and family and half the town and the vice principal and his son, who he had gone on a date with—

Errrgh. His stomach was too full of wedding cake to keep thinking about this. With a big breath, he steadied himself. Smoothed out his suit jacket. Pulled his tie loose to look cooler. Plastered a big smile on his face and joined his friends at the table. 

He could ask Rantaro to dance another time. Although he would always regret not doing it that night.

The band continued playing through the evening. Ryoga danced with Nabiki slowly, in the close way newlyweds always do. Other couples were swaying on the dance floor, Tofu with Kasumi, Nodoka with Genma. Ranma remained seated at a table, watching. At another table nearby was Akane, her arms folded over her chest, her fingers curled around her upper arms. She was always cold.

Ranma pulled himself to his feet and lumbered over to her. Took off his tuxedo jacket and draped it over her shoulders from behind. She looked up at him in surprise and smiled. 

“Ranma.”

“You wanna dance?”

“Oh.” Akane’s smile dropped quickly as she cast a glance out to the dance floor. “Not really.”

“It’s not because of—” He tapped his temporary prosthetic with the end of his cane. “This thing, is it? Because I can actually stay upright on it without my cane for a little bit—”

“No,” said Akane. Her smile returned, but it was small, and her eyes were weary. “It’s not that.”

Ranma pulled over a chair and sat down next to her, turned in his seat so he could reach out and grab her hand. He knew the look on her face very well.

“Too many people, huh?”

“I can’t ever get used to it,” Akane whispered. “It’s the one thing I can’t get over.”

Ranma squeezed her hand. “You look exhausted. Let’s go home.”

“Oh, but the night’s not over—”

“Nabiki won’t mind. She’s deliriously happy with P-chan over there.”

“The kids—”

“The girls can stay with Mom at the apartment tonight. And Ryoichi’s a big boy, he can make his own way home.”

Akane’s shoulders drooped under the cover of his tuxedo jacket, but her smile grew. “All right.” 

They bid goodbye to Nabiki and Ryoga when the song ended. Ryoga shook Ranma’s hand enthusiastically, and Nabiki hugged her little sister with a tearful smile. Nodoka had no problem watching the twins until the next day, and Ryoichi was having too much fun with his friends to even think about leaving. 

Ranma put his arm around Akane as they left the ballroom. All the way down on the elevator. They strolled out of the building and into the night air. It was the start of August, and although the sun was long gone for the day, it was still hot and humid and oppressive. Ranma paused and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, pulling at his bowtie until it became undone and hung loose around his neck, then unbuttoned his top few buttons, his tank top visible underneath. Akane was still cold, and pulled Ranma’s jacket tighter around her shoulders. 

She hesitated before they began their walk to the train station and looked up at the building, tilting her head all the way back, her neck a straight line with her chin. The downtown lights were so bright the stars weren’t visible in the faraway sky. But high, high up the light from the Imperial Ballroom shone brightly. 

Ranma watched her from a few feet away on the sidewalk. The way her hair fell back against the collar of his jacket. The way her glasses slid back on her nose. The line of her eyelashes whenever she would blink. 

“Akane?” he asked softly. 

She turned her head, her vision back on the ground, and smiled at him. “What is it?”

“Did you want a big wedding? Like that?”

“No,” she said earnestly. She stepped forward and linked her arm in his, leaning her head against his shoulder. “Not ever. Not even when I was little.”

They began to walk, in no hurry. “So you always wanted to elope?”

“I never wanted to get married at all.”

“Is that so?”

“That’s so.” She took a deep breath. “Not until I met you, anyway.”

“You always liked all those cheesy romance books. And sappy movies.”

“I always thought those were just fantasies,” Akane said. “Not a life I was ever going to have, for real. Just like I would never ride a pegasus through a rainbow.”

Ranma tilted his head from side to side. “You know, we put a pelican on a horse and drown it in a Jusenkyo spring—”

“Ranma.”

“Just a thought.” He cleared his throat. “I changed your mind then, huh?”

“It took a while, but yes,” she replied. “But I still didn’t really want a wedding-wedding. And after planning them for so many years now, I have to tell you, I’m completely sick of them.”

Ranma laughed. “I can’t blame you.”

“What about you, Ranma?” Akane asked. “Did you really want a big wedding after all?”

He shrugged. “I never cared about the wedding itself. I just wanted to be married.”

“That’s probably the most mature thing you’ve ever said.”

“Oh definitely,” he acknowledged with a grin. They paused at a street corner, waiting for the crosswalk signal to change. Ranma turned his head to look down at Akane, and she was looking back up at him. He bent his neck and kissed her quickly, not caring if anyone saw.

She was blushing when he pulled away. Sometimes she still blushed, after years and years of being kissed by her husband. And Ranma always thought it was cute.

The light changed, and arm in arm, they crossed the street.

* * *

_ (aw, that’s nice. you could end it right there.) _

_ (not yet! we haven’t gotten to the best part!) _

_ (really?) _

_ (yeah, there’s still some loose ends we need to tie up.) _


	34. Warmed By the Sun

_ When they were 42 _

Ranma knelt down in the entryway and pulled on his sneakers. It was easy enough to put on the first one, but the one that went over his new foot was still a little bit of a struggle. He was glad it was still early morning and no one else was awake to see him fumble with it. Still, he succeeded, and stood up to stretch quickly. Bent his knees, his arms straight out in front of him. The corner of his mouth pulled up a tiny bit as he straightened up again. Tilted back and forth at his waist, lifting one arm above his head at a time. Both of his hands free.

It was cold outside, so he had dug out his old blue hoodie and pulled on sweatpants. No one would ever be able to tell that one of his legs was different from the other. He took a deep breath and opened the front door, stepping outside, right foot first. 

The doctors had told him over and over again it would take half a year or longer to develop the strength and muscle memory needed to walk and run properly with his prosthetic. Ranma had simply asserted that he would do it in six weeks. The doctors insisted it would take longer, and in the end, they were right.

It took eight.

Ranma walked freely, no cane, no limp, and with far less pain he had felt for over fifteen years, down the front walk to the gates. He had run the practice track at the rehab, but this was the first time he was going jogging around the neighborhood, anywhere he wanted. 

Grinning, he began to run.

Akane was still asleep in their bed at home. He had been as careful as he had always been not to wake her. She had stopped event planning, though. After the big battle at the Tendo dojo, they had a surge of potential students wanting to take classes. Too many for just Akane alone, really. But Ranma was almost ready to teach again, and he was looking forward to it.

The streets were mostly the same as they had been since he was a teenager. The concrete of the sidewalks and the asphalt of the roads had cracked and split and been replaced over and over throughout the years, but no new roads had been built. Only a couple of fresh houses here and there, one new four story apartment building five years ago. 

Everything was wet with the rain from the night before. He was glad not to be running in it. His new leg was water resistant, sure, but not waterproof. They had made him two legs at Toshiko’s suggestion, and Ranma was glad she had thought of it before he had gotten stuck in a crummy situation. It was definitely hilarious watching the technicians’ faces when he changed into a girl right in front of their eyes, though. 

The sun started to peek through the remainder of the gray clouds. Ranma looked up as he ran, letting the rays warm his face. The steady rhythm of his feet continued on.

He passed the high school. The one he had attended a long time ago. With Akane, walking next to her, to and from, every day. And now his son went here, and soon enough his daughters would too. The schoolyard was still and empty, quiet for the weekend, the grass of the soccer field still green. The very first time he kissed his wife had been here, under a tree, even though he didn’t remember it. He had the picture, though, tucked away in a shoebox hidden under a floorboard. Probably it was finally time to show that to Akane. 

He kept running, picking up speed. It felt good, to be able to gain distance like this. To be fast. To warm up as the blood pumped through his veins, his arms swinging back and forth with his pace. He felt his braid bounce against his back with every step, something he hadn’t felt in a long time. 

He ran past the bakery. Lights already on, although he couldn’t see his mother through the window. She had loved taking over for him while he was recovering. Gave her a sense of purpose, and Hiroshi gained some drive. No doubt because Nodoka was much stricter with him than Ranma ever was. And Genma enjoyed being the bakery’s new panda mascot. Rantaro had shown back up two weeks ago and was back to doing dishes, because Hiroshi still hated doing them and Nodoka was too busy.

Ranma kept going.

Ryoga and Nabiki had returned from their three week honeymoon in Rome, as she had wanted to taste real authentic Italian pizza. Apparently Ryoga had only gotten lost over there once, ending up in Switzerland for two days. Luckily there were a lot of people who spoke English there, and he was able to get himself some help. Now he and Nabiki were living the newlywed life in their apartment downtown, although it seemed like Ryoga was at the Tendo dojo more than ever before, whether Rantaro was there or not.

Ranma ran past the ramen restaurant. Shampoo was hanging out of a windowsill, bent over and cleaning the Nekohanten sign with a cloth. She smiled and waved as he went by. 

“ _Nihao_ , Ranma!”

Her tone was cheerful and bubbly and he smiled back at her, waving without stopping. “ _Nihao_ , Shampoo.”

All twelve of her children had been incredible fighters. When Ranma had complimented Mousse on how ferocious they were, Mousse had simply shrugged and replied, “You told us to have a bunch of warrior babies. So that’s what we did.”

Ranma ran through the shopping district, most of the storefronts still closed. A couple of older shop owners were outside, though, sweeping in front of their doors or adjusting displays. Another figure was jogging too, in the opposite direction on the other side of the street. 

“Morning, sensei,” the other jogger said, grinning. 

“Good morning, Yusuke,” Ranma replied at the moment they passed each other. 

He ran past the clinic, everyone still asleep, so the windows were dark. A quick glance at a pile of dogs napping in the front yard. Adorable ninjas, every one of them. Kenshi had said one of them was already expecting another litter of puppies, which had caused Mitsuko and Keiko to immediately start begging for one of them. Ranma was skeptical. Akane wasn’t known to be the best pet owner, and they were rambunctious kids. He would no doubt end up doing most of the work if they got a dog. 

As he rounded the corner, he thought maybe that wouldn’t be so bad, though. Better than a cat, that was for sure. 

He ran past Ucchan’s. She was awake, out front, sweeping as Sora held open a trash bag for her to dump debris from the dustpan into. 

“Mornin’, Ranchan! Nice to see you out and about!”

“Morning, Ucchan. Nice to be out and about!”

She laughed and he kept going. He ran past the bar, up the hill next to the park, then through the park, the same park where he had gotten drunk with his best friend and danced with Akane under a lamp post a lifetime ago. The sun was climbing higher in the sky, and the city was waking up. More and more people were out on the sidewalks, and he had to be careful to avoid them as he sped by.

The long stretch of sidewalk near the canal was mostly clear. He jogged past, casting repeated glances at the green railing on top of the fence. How long had it been? The chain links whizzed by his face as he kept running. He could do it. His leg was capable of it. He had to trust it, although he didn’t understand how all the microchips and gizmos inside of it worked. 

And he had to trust himself.

Ranma took a deep breath, not breaking his stride. Bent his knees. Jumped.

He was in the air for a long time, it felt. The sun shining above, casting a shadow on the ground.

And then his feet hit the railing, both at once, and he didn’t stop running for a second. 

He still had the balance. He still had the speed. He still had the strength.

As Ranma ran on top of the fence, he felt his chest heave. But he was smiling as the tears started. His smile slowly grew bigger as more and more tears streamed down his face. He started laughing, his breath coming in short bursts as he cried. 

The sun was warm and there was a breeze on his face. He was almost home.

The fence ended. He jumped again. Somersaulted. Ran a few more blocks to his house and through the front door without stopping. Akane was there in the entryway, clearly having just come out of the bedroom, her eyes only half open as she straightened her glasses.

She smiled. “Ranma?”

His shoes were off instantly and he hopped up and grabbed her around the waist, lifting her up and spinning her around. Akane laughed in delight, resting her hands on his shoulders as he held her there. Looking down at him, she asked, “Did you have a good run?”

“Yeah,” he said, staring up at her in wonder. “I had a great run.”

Akane lowered her head to meet him for a kiss and his hold on her grew tighter. His heart slammed against the insides of his ribcage, spreading warmth through his whole body. 

“Ew! It’s too early!” 

Ranma and Akane parted, smiling. He let her drop to the floor but kept his hands on her hips as they turned to look at Mitsuko standing on the stairs in her pajamas. 

“Good morning, Mitsuko,” Akane said in a chirpy tone. “Sleep well?”

“I did but then I had to wake up and see you guys kissing, gross,” she mumbled. She thumped her feet the rest of the way down the stairs and headed towards the bathroom. 

“I don’t think it’s so bad,” Ryoichi said cheerfully as he descended from upstairs, followed by Rantaro. 

“Rantaro!” Ranma said loudly, startling the boy when he was halfway down the flight of stairs.

“Uh, what?”

“You’re not at the bakery today?”

“No, it’s my day off. You know, child—”

“Child labor laws, I know.” Ranma clapped his hands together, an eager gleam in his eye. “But that means you’re free for a fight today.”

“A fight?” 

“You came here in the first place to fight me.” Ranma’s mouth pulled up into a slightly maniacal grin and he held his arms out wide. “So let’s fight!”

Rantaro shifted his weight awkwardly on his feet. “Um, is that really such a good idea?”

“Yeah, Dad,” agreed Ryoichi. “Shouldn’t you—”

“I’ll fight you too,” Ranma asserted. “It’s about time for a father son showdown, don’t you think?”

“Not really—”

“After breakfast! Meet me in the dojo!” Ranma whooped and headed back to his bedroom to change clothes. Ryoichi and Rantaro finally finished coming down the stairs and stood next to Akane, watching Ranma walk away.

“Don’t worry, Mom,” Ryoichi said. “We’ll go easy on him.”

Akane looked up at her son and gave him a sympathetic smile. She reached up and patted his cheek. “Oh, sweetie.”

“Oh, sweetie what?”

“Just—” She dropped her hand. “Oh, sweetie.”

* * *

Ranma was dressed out in his gi, a brand new one he bought only the week before, bouncing on the balls of his feet as the teenagers entered the dojo. Ryoichi had also put on his gi, while Rantaro was just in gray sweats. 

“All right, I am so ready for this!” Ranma clenched his fists in front of him, pumping his arms. 

Rantaro frowned. “Are you sure it’s okay with your, uh—”

“With my cool robot leg?” Ranma hiked up the leg of his pants to show it off. “Trust me, this thing is indestructible.”

“Kinda like Fullmetal Alchemist,” Rantaro murmured thoughtfully.

Ryoichi turned to him with a widemouthed grin and pointed at him with one finger. “Otaku!”

Rantaro blushed. “No, I just—it’s a popular show!”

“Yeah, yeah, we get it, Rantaro’s a huge nerd,” Ranma said, sighing and waving one hand dismissively. “But to be fair, everyone in this house except me is also a huge nerd.”

Ryoichi crossed his arms and shrugged, but didn’t disagree.

Ranma spread his feet apart in the middle of the floor. Raised his hands in front of his chest. 

“Come on, Rantaro. Let’s do it.”

Rantaro hesitated, looking at Ryoichi. Ryoichi shrugged again. Rantaro inhaled deeply and nodded. Took a stance a few feet in front of Ranma. “All right.”

Ryoichi walked over to the wall, under the _iroha_ sign. Raised his hand and brought it down with a chop. “Begin!”

Ranma smirked, his eyes blazing. Rantaro threw a nervous punch. Ranma easily avoided it, quickstepping to the side and grabbing Rantaro’s forearm, flipping the boy up and over. Rantaro slid across the floor on his back, his head ending up next to Ryoichi’s feet.

“Wow, that was even less time than it took Mom to beat you,” Ryoichi said.

Rantaro scowled. Hopped to his feet angrily. “You’re faster than me, you fight him!”

Rantaro shoved Ryoichi forward by the shoulder towards Ranma. Ryoichi skidded into place, adapting a ready stance. Ranma beamed. 

“All right, father son battle of the century!”

“Um—”

Ranma threw the first punch this time, and Ryoichi was faster than Rantaro, so he managed to dodge. But he wasn’t fast enough, as Ranma crouched down, faster than anyone could see, and grabbed Ryoichi by the shins before standing up and throwing the teenager to the side. Ryoichi slid across the floor in the same manner as Rantaro had, ending up by his friend’s feet. He stared upwards at Rantaro’s face blankly.

“He hasn’t done martial arts in fifteen years,” said Ryoichi. “And he’s still that good.”

Rantaro put a hand out and helped him to his feet. “We can try together.”

Ryoichi smiled in determination and nodded.

“Oh, yes!” Ranma jumped up and down. “Absolutely try attacking me together! That is going to be amazing!”

The boys rushed towards him, weaving in different directions. Ryoichi with a low kick, Rantaro with a high punch.

The result was the same. Ranma was too fast, dodging and sending them both back against the wall with one kick. 

“You guys aren’t even trying,” said Ranma as Ryoichi and Rantaro stood up again grumpily. “Come on, again!”

So it continued for hours. Ryoichi and Rantaro losing every single time, and Ranma instantly demanding a rematch in a gleeful voice. It was nearing lunchtime, and Ryoichi’s shoulders were really starting to hurt. His dad was still full of energy.

“One more time!” Ranma cried cheerfully after throwing Rantaro into a wall again. Rantaro hit the ground with a thump and groaned. “Come on!”

“Dad, we’re tired,” whined Ryoichi.

“Pah, you’re still young! Let’s go!” Ranma put up his fists, bouncing on his heels. 

“How about you pick on someone your own size?”

Ranma turned in the direction of the voice to see Akane standing in the doorway, wearing her own pale yellow gi. Her arms were crossed as she leaned against the doorframe, smiling. 

“Akane.” Ranma smiled as his wife approached him. She stopped when she was only half a foot away from him, beaming, her eyes shining through her glasses. He held a hand over the top of her head, measuring her against his own height. “You’re not really my size.”

“In spirit,” said Akane. “Come on. Unless you’re afraid.”

“Afraid?” Ranma scoffed. “Of you?”

“I’m not the one fifteen years out of practice,” she replied. “And I know how you fight better than those two do.”

Ranma rubbed his chin with one hand, although he was smiling. “I dunno, you’re still pretty short.”

“Don’t be a chicken, Ranma,” Akane said, although she was also smiling.

“All right,” Ranma said, with a friendly shake of the head. “You asked for it. But I won’t go easy on you, Tendo.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Saotome.” Akane stepped back into her ready stance, her arms raised in front of her chest. Ranma stepped back into his own, very different from hers.

Ryoichi and Rantaro sat on the floor against the wall, watching. Ryoichi tentatively raised his hand, and then brought it down again. “Begin!”

Ranma kicked out with his prosthetic leg, and Akane leapt over it easily, somersaulting in midair. As she spiraled downwards, she extended her arm out, her fist aimed at Ranma’s face. He caught it with one hand and pushed it down, spinning her away from him. It was her turn to launch a roundhouse kick back in his direction, which he merely blocked with the flat of both hands. He went low, sweeping her feet out, although again she merely tumbled and landed in a standing position. There was no hesitation on Akane’s part as she spun around and threw punch after punch, driving Ranma backwards as he was forced to dodge quickly. 

Ryoichi watched his parents move around the dojo. Laughing. Smiling. Fighting. The way they anticipated each other. Countered each other. He had seen them happy before. But not like this. 

“This is what it must have looked like,” he whispered as his father jumped straight up over a kick from his mother and flipped, landing behind her.

“What what must have looked like?” Rantaro asked, crossing his arms. 

Ryoichi kept staring at his parents, smiling as he felt tears form in his eyes. “When they first fell in love.”

Rantaro turned his head to look at Ryoichi, but Ryoichi just kept watching his parents. It was a long time before Rantaro looked away from him, and back to the fight.

Ranma had imagined this happening for a long time. Even when he had sworn off martial arts, there was still a part of him that wanted to do this, again. With Akane. One time he had a dream, where they were in the dojo. And he was wearing some suit, with a silk shirt and a high collar, and she was in some fancy ballgown, and he had two working legs. And they had joined hands and danced across the floor, some kind of waltz. Moving in time with music he had never heard before, but felt as familiar as the beat of his own heart. And then when he woke up, the pain in his leg reminded him that he couldn’t. Could never. 

Now he was, though. 

Akane was better than ever. Faster, stronger. Smarter. And she had already been smarter than him. 

She kicked. He caught her ankle and yanked up, letting her dangle from the end of his arm. 

“Ranma—” Exasperated, she grabbed at her glasses, trying to prevent them from falling off of her face. 

“Weird how it always ends up like this,” he said, smirking. “I wonder what you’ll do to get out of it.”

Akane sighed. “You could have just asked.”

“This way is funner.”

She rolled her eyes, but before Ranma could say anything else, she threw her body weight up. Hooked the back of one leg around his neck as he released her ankle. Spun around his shoulders, sending him falling to the ground. As he landed on his back, she continued rotating until her body was in front of him, ending up straddling his waist. 

Giggling, she pushed her glasses up her nose as she sat up on top of him, looking down. “Guess I win.”

“Well, maybe,” Ranma said with a smile. He placed his hands on her hips. “But I let you.”

“Is that so?” Akane asked, placing her palms on his chest.

“That’s so,” he replied, running his hands up to her waist. Akane started to lean down, and then froze, suddenly remembering they weren’t alone.

“Ryoichi,” she said sweetly, sitting up straight, still on top of Ranma. “Will you go make lunch for your sisters, please?”

“Yes, sure, yes,” Ryoichi said quickly, standing up. “Come on, Rantaro.”

The two of them ran out of the dojo, shutting the door behind them. Akane turned back to Ranma.

“Now where were we?” he asked as he moved his hands around to her lower back.

She leaned down again, smiling. “Right. About. Here.”

* * *

“Rantaro?” Ranma opened the door to the dojo to see Rantaro standing in the backyard, looking confused. Akane exited the dojo as well, fastening the belt to her gi. “What are you doing out here?”

“I was going to the bathroom,” he replied, frowning. 

“Speaking of, I really have to go,” Akane said, dashing past Ranma and down the covered walkway into the house.

Ranma walked over to Rantaro and clapped him on the shoulder. “Must be tough to get lost all the time.”

“It is,” said Rantaro. “It sucks.”

Ranma considered this for a moment. Smiled. “Well, I’m always glad when you end up here.”

Rantaro looked away and muttered, “Me too.”

Ranma’s smile turned into a full grin. “You know, I’m sorry if I embarrassed you in the fight back there. I can’t help being, you know, the best martial artist in the world or whatever.”

“It’s fine,” Rantaro grumbled, not looking at him. 

“I mean, we all have different skills,” Ranma said, turning him by the shoulder to lead him back into the house. “You know, I have martial arts. You have dancing.”

“Hmmph,” Rantaro grunted.

“But you know,” Ranma said, tilting his head and smiling at an old memory. “I realized when I was younger that martial arts is a lot like dancing.” 

Rantaro looked down at the ground and said nothing.

Ranma patted him on the back. “Come on, let’s go in.”

* * *

“Dad?”

Ranma looked up as Ryoichi walked over to him and sat down. He was sitting on the deck, the doors to the koi pond open, watching the moon. Next to him was a glass of water. He was off beer for a little, until he really got back in shape. Akane and the twins were in bed, but Ranma had a ton of energy lately. Didn’t sleep as much as he used to.

“What’s up?”

“I—oh, where’s your leg?” Ryoichi asked, noticing one of Ranma’s pant legs was flat from the knee down. 

“Charging,” Ranma said, tilting his head back towards the living room where his protheses was plugged into an outlet. “So what do you need?”

Ryoichi had brought a notebook and pen with him. He tapped the pen against the notebook quickly. “I just wanted to ask you some questions, I guess.”

“About what?”

“Well, there’s an assembly on Saturday. Or like a presentation, I guess. For literature club.”

Ranma grinned. “I’d like to help, but much like Keiko, I’ve never read a book.”

Ryoichi smiled, but continued. “No, we’re all going to read something we wrote. In front of an audience.” 

“Oh? Are you nervous?”

“No,” said Ryoichi. “That doesn’t bother me. You know how everyone finds me extremely charming.”

Ranma laughed. “That’s true. You’re a lot like me, just without the anxiety.”

Ryoichi’s stomach grumbled. He should tell his dad. But Ranma was smiling at him, looking like he was at peace for the first time. So all he did was swallow the lump in his throat and return the smile. “Yeah.”

“Then what do you need?”

“Well, I need help with the story I wrote. It’s about you and mom.”

Ranma’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. “Really?”

“Yeah. And it’s about halfway done, but I feel like—I feel like there’s a lot of stuff I don’t know.”

Ranma exhaled and folded his arms over his chest. “There is a lot you don’t know.”

“Will you tell me?”

“Sure,” Ranma said, smiling. “But it’s a long story.”

Ryoichi gave him a lopsided grin in return. “My favorite kind.”


	35. What a Man Gotta Do

_ When they were 42 _

Ryoichi woke up early to sneak a cup of coffee before his mother got up for the day. He quietly padded in his slipper socks and pulled out his Spongebob mug from the back of the cabinet above the refrigerator, where she couldn’t reach. Retrieved his coffee maker from another cabinet and began the process of brewing himself a cup.

“Ryoichi?”

He turned around to see Rantaro standing in the kitchen doorway, already fully dressed for the day. Ryoichi gave him a sleepy smile. “Good morning. Up already?”

Rantaro shrugged. “Used to getting up early to go to the bakery, but your grandma said I could have today off too.”

“Nice,” said Ryoichi, dumping sugar into his mug. “So what did you wanna do today?”

“I had a new idea for a video,” Rantaro said. “If you wanna practice in the dojo when you’re done with your coffee, I can show you.”

“Sounds great,” said Ryoichi, pouring coffee into his mug. “And you won’t tell my mom I had coffee, will you?”

“Of course not,” Rantaro said. Then he smiled and it caused Ryoichi’s breath to hitch in his chest. Rantaro lifted one hand in a half wave. “See you in a few?”

“Yeah,” replied Ryoichi, his voice soft. He cleared his throat. “Just don’t get lost on your way out there.”

“Oh I won’t,” Rantaro replied confidently. “Not this time.”

* * *

After getting dressed for the day, Ryoichi headed out to the dojo. The morning air was still a little chilly, but the sun was out and he was full of caffeine, so the optimism showed on his face. He opened the door to the dojo and was only a little surprised to see that Rantaro had made it there without getting lost. He was fiddling with his phone, getting it set up on their typical awkward contraption made of chairs and pillows. Ryoichi thought to himself it was probably time to get a tripod. 

“Ryoichi, hey,” Rantaro said as the other boy shut the door behind him. “You ready?”

“Sure,” Ryoichi replied, walking to the middle of the room and smiling. “So what’s your idea?”

Rantaro set his phone down and held up his hands, trying to illustrate what he wanted to say. “Martial arts. And dancing. Together.”

He started pacing in small circles, like he usually did when he was teaching Ryoichi something new. Ryoichi liked the look Rantaro got on his face when he was focused, his thick eyebrows knitting together under the edge of his bandanna, his tongue poking at the inside of his cheek when he paused to think. 

“Okay, we’re good at both those things,” Ryoichi said genially. “How do you want to do it?”

“This is just gonna be practice,” Rantaro said, still pacing. “So I just want you to spar with me, but when you do, try to move on beat with the song.” 

Ryoichi nodded thoughtfully. “I think I can do that.”

“Great!” Rantaro’s face lit up with a smile. He picked up his phone again and turned the volume up before swiping on his screen. “Go get ready over there.”

Ryoichi walked over to the spot Rantaro had indicted and put up his hands in a ready stance. His feet, wide apart like his mother’s. His hands, loose like his father’s. Rantaro pressed play and a song began to play out of the surprisingly loud phone speaker.

Ryoichi listened for a few seconds and then tilted his head to the side curiously. “Isn’t this the Jonas Brothers?”

“Yeah, Keiko kept listening to it and it sorta grew on me,” Rantaro grumbled. He took his place in front of Ryoichi and assumed his own stance. “Remember? On beat.”

Ryoichi nodded and threw a punch on time with the song. Rantaro blocked it with his forearm and grinned. Ryoichi shifted weight, again in tempo with the music, and threw his leg up in a kick, which Rantaro blocked again. Ryoichi let his foot land and Rantaro mirrored the move, stepping up close to him. 

“You’re getting a lot faster,” Ryoichi said.

“Because of you,” Rantaro said. “You made me better.”

They each took a step back from each other as the song continued. Ryoichi’s mouth pulled up into a half grin as they circled each other with cautious steps. Rantaro leapt up on beat, spinning in midair to throw a kick followed by a quick punch, both of which Ryoichi blocked, sliding a little on the floor. Ryoichi struck out with his right fist and Rantaro caught his wrist in one hand and pulled him in close.

“So this part is the dance,” Rantaro said, as he spun Ryoichi around. He crossed his free arm behind Ryoichi’s lower back, keeping his other hand on Ryoichi’s wrist, which he pulled over Ryoichi’s torso and held it down near their hips. “Move your feet like this.”

“Uh-huh,” Ryoichi said dumbly, his head turned to the side as he watched Rantaro’s face. Rantaro was looking down at the floor, guiding Ryoichi gently, stepping and swaying on time to the music. This was close. They were very close. He was shaking a little, but his stomach didn’t seem to mind what was happening at all. 

“And then—” Rantaro spun Ryoichi outwards, releasing his hands. Smiled as they faced each other. “You get it?”

Ryoichi was a bad detective. An extremely bad detective. There were a lot of things that he never noticed, and a lot of situations where he felt extremely unsure of what was happening. But he liked to seem confident, so he replied, “Yeah. I do.”

“Great.” Rantaro quickly stepped in close to him again until their chests were nearly touching.

Ryoichi still had no idea what was happening until Rantaro grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him in for a kiss. 

He froze in shock at first, the gears in his brain turning quickly as he realized what was happening. The dumb song was still playing, but honestly, it was kind of catchy. And Rantaro was a pretty good kisser. 

Ryoichi closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around Rantaro’s back while Rantaro’s hands moved up to Ryoichi’s shoulders until his arms were around his neck. Rantaro was passionate, insistent as he moved his lips with Ryoichi’s, and Ryoichi had always been a quick learner and managed to return the movement with the same energy.

Rantaro was his best friend in the whole world. And now they were kissing. It felt right. It was right. And Ryoichi knew it was right because his stomach didn’t grumble even once.

“Oh, hahaha, very funny!”

The two boys jumped apart, blushing, and looked over at the direction the voice came from. Ryoga was coming through the dojo doorway, pushing up the sleeves of his henley and frowning.

Ryoichi felt like he was going to sink through the floor. “Uhh—”

“What a joke, huh?” Ryoga said, crossing his arms. “I told Ranma, ‘oh, aren’t Ryoichi and Rantaro just like us’ and he started laughing like it was the funniest thing in the world. Now I get it! Now I see why he was laughing! Very funny, Ranma!”

Ryoichi, frowned, his eyebrows crinkling in confusion. “Uh—”

“He thinks I’m in love with him, you know?” Ryoga scoffed. “And I definitely am not.”

Ryoichi squinted one eye. “So you’re not—you’re not upset?”

“Hmm?” Ryoga blinked, his frustration instantly dissipating. “Oh, about Rantaro kissing a boy? I don’t care about that. He came out to me when he was twelve.”

Ryoichi turned to Rantaro in shock. “You’re gay?!”

Rantaro stared back at him, slack-jawed. “Dude, I just kissed you!”

“Yeah, but I didn’t know you were _gay!_ ”

Rantaro was too stunned to respond. Ryoga smiled and turned to his son. “Oh, got yourself a himbo, huh?”

“Himbo?” Ryoichi asked. 

“You know, it’s a guy that’s really good looking, and very kind, but also sorta stupid,” Ryoga said. 

Ryoichi grinned and cocked his head to the side. “Well, I am pretty good looking.”

“Actually,” said Ryoga, perking up. “I saw some himbo discourse on twitter the other day—”   


“Oh my god, Dad, stop talking about twitter discourse in real life—”

“But it’s pretty interesting—”

“No, it’s not! It’s never interesting!”

Ryoichi smiled, watching as the father and son continued their argument, possibly the longest continuous conversation he had ever seen them have. And they were interrupting each other a lot, especially as their shouts increased in volume.

It was almost as if they were trying to see who could say I love you the loudest.


	36. Carry On

_ When they were 42 _

“What’s that?” Ranma asked as Akane entered the living room, a stack of papers in her arms. She sighed and sank down in front of the table, plopping them on top. Keiko was throwing punches at her father, which he blocked without looking, his eyes on Akane. 

“It’s more sign ups,” said Akane. “You know there’s videos of our fight all over Youtube. We’re too popular.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Ranma asked. He was still sitting down as Keiko threw a kick at his face, which he again blocked easily. 

“It’s too many students, even with me and you both teaching,” Akane replied, pushing her glasses up her nose. “I think we need to hire another instructor.”

“I don’t wanna hire some stranger,” Ranma said, still effortlessly fending off Keiko. “If we’re gonna get another instructor, it should be the next heir to the dojo.”

Akane raised one eyebrow. “Which is?”

Ranma turned to the end of the table where Ryoichi was sitting with Rantaro, eating breakfast. “Son, I think it’s time.”

Ryoichi frowned. “I don’t want to run the dojo.”

“What?” Ranma said, also frowning as Keiko paused to catch her breath. “You don’t?”

“I feel like I’ve been very clear about this for years,” Ryoichi said. “I want to be a writer.”

Ranma sighed. “All right. Rantaro? You guys are a couple now. Wanna run the dojo?”

“No,” was Rantaro’s only reply.

Ranma turned to his daughter. “Keiko, you kinda do martial arts now. You wanna run the dojo?”

“Me?” She scoffed and crossed her arms. “You want me to have responsibilities? Are you insane?”

“You’re nine, you could change your mind,” Ranma replied.

“I won’t,” she asserted. And she never did.

Ranma sighed. Looked over to the corner, where Mitsuko was packing away her schoolbooks in her backpack. “Mitsuko?”

“Me? Physical activity?” She wrinkled her nose in disgust. “In the words of my sister, are you insane?”

Ranma slammed a fist on the table in exasperation. “Akane, why did we have all these kids if none of them wanted to run the dojo? That was the whole point of our marriage in the first place!”

“Was it?” she asked impatiently.

“We can’t just let it go to some stranger,” said Ranma. “It’s gotta stay in the family.”

“There is a solution, Ranma,” Akane said with a calm smile. “And I think you know who it is.”

Ranma sat up straight, instantly realizing what she was suggesting. “Oh no. No way. Definitely not!”

“Ranma—”

“Come on, Ryoichi,” Ranma pleaded with his son. “Run the dojo, won’t ya?”

Ryoichi let out a puff of air and decided to echo his boyfriend’s simple refusal. “No.”

“Ranma,” said Akane. “You saw her fight. She’s nearly as good as you are.”

“I don’t know about that,” he grumbled, crossing his arms in a pout. 

“You should ask her before she leaves town again.”

“You ask her,” Ranma retorted in a surly voice. “It’s your dojo.”

Akane maintained her gentle smile. “But you’re the one who broke her heart.”

Ranma let out a deep breath, his spine curving as he bent over slightly in shame. “All right, I’ll ask her.”

“Who?” Ryoichi asked earnestly.

“Seriously?” Rantaro asked him. 

Ranma laughed and unplugged his prosthesis from the charger. Fastened it on and stood up. 

“All right,” he said, putting his hands on his hips. Grinned down at Ryoichi. “I’m gonna go call your cousin.”

* * *

Mirai stood in the middle of the dojo, staring up at the _iroha_ sign with her arms crossed. Her hands were hidden in the sleeves of her too-big sweatshirt that had her name written on the front in English letters across her torso. She pursed her lips and bit down on her cheek as her Uncle Ranma paced back and forth in front of her, as he had done for several minutes. 

“So, Mirai,” he said, finally pausing and clearing his throat. He put his hands behind his back. “Listen.”

She arched one eyebrow over the frames of her glasses. “I’m listening.”

“Listen,” Ranma repeated. “I’ve been meaning to thank you.”

“For what?” she asked, trying not to soften.

“You put up a really good fight, in the summer,” said Ranma. “Helped protect the house. Our family. So thank you. You’re a really skilled martial artist.”

Mirai smirked. “That’s true.”

“Anyway,” Ranma said, taking a deep breath. “We have a lot of new students wanting to take classes now. We’re gonna be really busy.”

“I bet.”

“And Akane wanted to hire a new instructor. And I said whoever it is has to be the person who’s gonna take over the dojo one day, when me and her retire, whenever that is. So that’s who we chose.”

“So what?” Mirai asked. “You want me to train Ryoichi so he can teach?”

“It’s not Ryoichi,” Ranma said with a small smile. “It’s you, Mirai.”

Time slowed down for Mirai as the tension evaporated from her shoulders. Her jaw softened and her breath slowed as she opened her eyes wide in surprise.

“What?” she asked in a whisper.

A full size grin spread across Ranma’s face. “We want you to carry on the Tendo dojo.”

Her bottom lip quivered, tears filling her eyes. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

Choking back a sob, she dashed forward and threw her arms around Ranma’s torso. Although she was tall like her mother, she was still shorter than he was, so she buried her face in his chest and began to cry. Ranma wrapped his arms around her and bent his neck, a few tears of his own falling down his face as he squeezed her tight.

“Thank you,” she mumbled, her voice muffled against the fabric of his gi. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“It was the right choice,” Ranma whispered. “And I’m sorry. I wasn’t kind to you, and I should’ve been. But things are going to be different in the future.”

_Future_. Mirai smiled, her face still hidden as she cried. “I’m gonna be the best teacher ever.”

“I believe you,” Ranma said, smiling as he rubbed her back. “You know, I always wanted three daughters. I guess I had them all along.”

“My parents are still alive—”

“I know, Mirai, I know.”

He held her for a little while longer, until they both managed to stop crying. He left her alone in the dojo and she turned to face the _iroha_ sign once again. Sniffling away the last of her tears, she smiled, feeling the cool wood of the dojo floor on her feet.

Her grandfather had died when she was just a little girl. But she remembered his kind eyes and warm hugs. She was determined to make him proud.

Six generations of Tendo history. 

And it wouldn’t end with her.

* * *

“So did you like it?” Ryoichi asked, as he and Rantaro sat on the roof of the house. His presentation for the literature club was tonight, and he had asked Rantaro to read his story beforehand. Rantaro had a cup of tea in one hand, a sheaf of papers in the other. Even though Ryoichi preferred coffee, Rantaro had become pretty fond of tea since staying at the house.

“It’s good,” said Rantaro, smiling. “You’re a really good writer.”

“There’s a ‘but,’ isn’t there?” Ryoichi asked, sitting straight up, crossing his legs over each other. 

“No,” Rantaro lied.

“Rantaro!”

“Okay, it’s just a little, you know—romanticized.”

“Well, duh, it’s a love story,” Ryoichi asserted. 

“Sure,” said Rantaro, sipping his tea. “It’s just—I dunno. I’m not as good at words as you.”

Ryoichi sighed. “Should I not read it, then?”

“You should,” Rantaro assured him. “People will like it.”

“But it could be better,” Ryoichi said, taking the papers from him. “Right?”

Rantaro shrugged. “Everything could be better.”

“What is it missing?”

Rantaro scrunched up his face, thinking. “Conflict, I guess.”

“But I want it to have a happy ending!” Ryoichi whined.

“It can still have a happy ending,” said Rantaro. “But it’s gotta be, I dunno, earned.”

“Wack,” muttered Ryoichi. He folded up the papers and shoved them in his coat pocket. “Can’t people just be happy all the time for no reason?”

Rantaro smiled. “It’s not realistic.”

“Okay, well, my father has a magical curse that changes him into a girl, so I’m not really concerned with realism,” Ryoichi retorted. 

Rantaro didn’t reply, just kept smiling. He held out his hand. Ryoichi relaxed and took Rantaro’s hand in his own, weaving their fingers together. They looked out over the neighborhood, the rooftops as familiar to Ryoichi as the back of his hand. 

“What am I gonna do?” he asked with a sigh.

“You’ll think of something,” said Rantaro. “You always do.”

* * *

Ryoichi waited backstage in the school auditorium as the other members of the literature club gave their readings. Some read poems, others short stories, one girl had even written a song. His palms were damp with sweat, and he kept wiping them on the front of his jeans. He had downed half a bottle of pepto bismol, so his stomach was only mildly gurgling. It was a surprise to him. Normally he was fine speaking to large groups. But this time felt different than the others, and he wasn’t sure why. 

Both of his parents had gone through anxiety attacks in front of him before. He tried to remember what he learned from them. Breathe. Even. Close your eyes. Picture a calm place. Breathe. In. Out. 

Ryoichi opened his eyes. He did feel a little better. 

They called his name, and there was a round of light applause from the audience, and a loud _whoop_ that sounded like his dad. That made him feel a lot better, and he walked out onto the stage with a refreshed confidence. 

Ryoichi stepped up to the microphone. Looked out over the crowd. He couldn’t make out their faces clearly, with the stage lights in his eyes. But he knew his family was there. His mother. His father. His sisters. Rantaro.

He unfolded his stack of papers. Cleared his throat. Gave the crowd a lopsided, charming grin. Began to read.

“Once upon a time, there was a girl who hated boys. And then she met a boy who turned into a girl.”

Ryoichi paused. Stared down at the paper, the words of the story blending together and going fuzzy in his eyes. He licked his lips and shook his head before folding the papers back up, then returned his gaze to the crowd. Smiled again.

“That’s how my parents' love story starts. Sounds like a fairy tale, doesn’t it? I sure thought so. Their lives were full of magic, and monsters, and unbelievable moments like something out of a book. But I didn’t know, you know? That it was hard to make ‘happily ever after’ happen.”

He paused again. Took a deep breath.

“But ‘happily ever after’ is the end of the story. Their story is still going on. And I didn’t even know their real story, their real past, until just recently. I just assumed that fate brought them together. That they were destined to be. They were so perfectly suited for each other.”

He looked out over the crowd. No one was making any noise.

“And you know what? That was kinda true. They fell in love at first sight when they were sixteen years old. But they’re still in love, now, when they’re forty-two, because they choose to be. They wake up every single day and choose to still be in love, and then they tell each other.”

Ryoichi inhaled. Exhaled. Wondered if his mother was in the crowd, crying. Knew his father had to be holding her hand. 

“And they made the choice, together, to be parents. And they are great at it. Not because they’re naturally gifted, but because they actively chose to be loving and supportive of all of us. It worked. I’ve never doubted for a second that my parents love me and my sisters. Not for a second. And I’ve always known that they made that choice. They don’t just love me out of obligation. They want to be my parents. My mom and dad.”

He closed his mouth. It wasn’t like he was ashamed of crying, but to do so in front of a whole audience would still feel uncomfortable. He blinked away his tears and started again.

“Their story isn’t just, ‘once upon a time they met, fell in love, and lived happily ever after.’ They had pain, and they struggled, and they were flawed and weird and made mistake after mistake. And that’s not the story I wrote. But it is the real story. And the real story is a lot better.”

He took a deep breath. Managed to smile again. “And it’s a lot longer.” 

A slight rumble of a chuckle from the crowd. 

“Maybe, one day, I will write that story. I hope I can do it justice. But if it has a happily ever after, it’s only because they deserve it. Thank you.”

He bowed his head and stepped back from the microphone as the audience burst into applause. 

There was a thunderous stomping, and before he knew it his entire family had jumped onto the stage. Ranma threw his arms around Ryoichi’s neck, pulling him close. Akane hugged him around the chest, crying. Mitsuko and Keiko held onto one of his legs each, and even Rantaro was up there, putting his arm around Ryoichi’s shoulders. 

“That was great,” Ranma sobbed. “You’re the best writer in the world!”

“You’re such a good boy, Ryoichi,” Akane said through her tears as she looked up at him. “Such a good boy.”

“Our favorite brother!” Keiko and Mitsuko shouted in unison. 

Ryoichi smiled awkwardly, unable to move with so many people hanging on him. “You guys know the assembly isn’t over yet, right?”

“It is for us,” Ranma said without letting go. “The other kids are boring.”

“Dad—” Ryoichi hissed, gesturing towards the audience, full of other parents.

“Oh, uh, sorry,” Ranma said as he released Ryoichi. He gave a wave to the crowd and then shrugged. “But I mean, you guys do have boring kids.”

“He’s kinda right,” Rantaro muttered under his breath, so quiet only Ryoichi could hear. “You were the only entertaining one.”

“Let’s go home!” shouted Keiko. “I’m ready to gooooooo!”

“You guys gotta let go of me first.”

Reluctantly, his family relinquished their hold on him, although his mother kept touching his face and sniffling away her tears. Ryoichi looked out at the audience and winked.

“Bye!”

The crowd stared back in unified, perturbed silence as the family made their way offstage, chattering amongst themselves. Mitsuko climbed onto Ranma’s shoulders and Keiko jumped up to ride piggyback on Rantaro. The president of the literature club stepped out to the microphone once they were finally out of sight and sighed deeply, their breath echoing through the speaker system. 

“Okay, our next participant is—”

* * *

“This place hasn’t changed that much, huh?” Ranma asked as he and Akane stood at the gates of Furinkan high school. Mitsuko was still on his shoulders, leaning forward with her chin on top of his head. 

Akane buttoned up her coat and smiled. “It really hasn’t.”

He took her hand and they walked together down the sidewalk in the autumn evening. Ryoichi, Rantaro, and Keiko were ahead of them, but still in sight. “We made a good kid, huh?”

“Three good kids,” Mitsuko chimed in from above.

“Yes,” said Akane warmly. “I think, maybe, it’s okay to be proud of ourselves for it, too.”

“I’m proud of you,” Ranma said affectionately. 

“I’m proud of you too,” she said, squeezing his hand. She watched Rantaro and Ryoichi ahead of them, smiling and laughing, Keiko bouncing on Rantaro’s back. “Remember when we were young and in love?”

“We’re still young and in love,” Ranma said.

“We’re in love, sure,” Akane replied. “But we’re old.”

“Maybe you are.”

“You’re literally one day older than me.”

“It’s about the mindset, Akane,” Ranma replied. “I’m young at heart.”

“But you act like a grumpy old man all the time,” Mitsuko said.

Ranma frowned as Akane laughed brightly. “She’s right, you know.”

“Harrumph,” Ranma grunted. 

“Keiko!” Akane called out down the street. “Come here, please!”

Keiko hopped down off of Rantaro and ran up to her mother. “What’s up, Mom?”

Akane placed a hand on her shoulder and smiled, turning her around so they were facing the same direction. “I think maybe we should let the boys be alone together for a little while.”

“Gross,” mumbled Mitsuko. 

Ranma frowned skeptically as they continued walking home. “Are they going to get up to what we got up to when we were young and in love?”

“That’s the same stuff we get up to now, isn’t it?” Akane asked, looking at him with a flirtatious smile. 

“Gross!” Mitsuko repeated, shouting this time.

Ahead of them, Ryoichi’s phone pinged. He pulled it from his pocket and looked down at the screen to see a text from his dad. 

_ >You two should go for a walk in the park _

Ryoichi looked over his shoulder to see Ranma beaming, giving him a thumbs up. Ryoichi rolled his eyes but smiled and turned to Rantaro. 

“You wanna go for a walk in the park?”

“Sure.”

The boys turned at the next corner and Ryoichi’s parents went the opposite direction, towards home. Rantaro stayed close to Ryoichi, and not just because he was afraid of getting lost. There were dried leaves scattered around the street, although the night air was not as cool as it could have been. Ryoichi was talkative like he always was, babbling away, but Rantaro was a good listener. 

“So,” said Ryoichi as they took a seat on the park bench. He leaned back and propped his arms up on the back as Rantaro sat next to him. “You didn’t tell me if you liked my new story.”

“I liked your old story,” Rantaro said, settling back against Ryoichi’s outstretched arm. “But the new story is better.”

“Pretty good for making it up on the spot,” Ryoichi said with a grin. “Maybe I should take improv classes.”

“Don’t.”

“Fair enough.” Ryoichi tilted his head back, looking up at the tops of the trees that lined the brick path, the leaves silhouetted against the night sky. “Hey, can I ask you a question?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“When did you—” Ryoichi paused, blushing slightly. “When did you first start to like me?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know, was it, you know, love at first sight or whatever?”

Rantaro faced straight ahead, crossing his arms over his chest and smiling. “No.”

“Oh.”

“Not everyone falls in love at first sight, Ryoichi.”

“Yeah, I know,” Ryoichi acknowledged. “So when, then?”

Rantaro, still smiling, let out a deep exhale. “When you made that stupid soup joke.”

Ryoichi burst out into a wide grin, turning his head to look right at Rantaro. “The one about eating soup with your bare hands!”

“Yes,” Rantaro said with good natured annoyance. 

“I knew you liked that joke,” Ryoichi said, deeply pleased.

“Don’t get me wrong, it was very stupid,” Rantaro said. “But, I dunno. It’s good to be stupid sometimes.”

“Sure is,” Ryoichi agreed. “That’s probably the smartest thing you ever said.”

Rantaro nodded and they were quiet for a moment. “So, what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Did you—” Rantaro looked away, muttering. “You know, fall in love with me at first sight or whatever?”

“No,” Ryoichi replied in an upbeat voice. “You were trying to beat my face in at the time.”

Rantaro nodded, his lips pursed together. “So when?”

“When we were cooking,” Ryoichi replied. “And you said you wanted your dad to be proud of you. I just thought it was cute.”

“Cute?” Rantaro asked in surprise. 

“Yeah, I always think you’re cute. With the eyebrows, and the bandanna. Adorable.”

“That’s—” Rantaro scrunched up his face. The expression almost immediately faded, however, and he turned to Ryoichi and regarded him with soft eyes. “That’s nice. Thanks.”

“Sure.”

Rantaro leaned forward and kissed Ryoichi, on a park bench only ten feet away from the lamppost Ranma and Akane had danced underneath on a similar night, a long time ago. 

Somewhere, not too far away, music started playing.


	37. The Anniversary

_ When they were 42 _

“Ranma! Can you get the door?”

“No problem,” Ranma called back to his wife. He had just left the bathroom and was heading back to the living room when the doorbell had rung. Whistling, he slid the door open to reveal his youngest nephew, Kenshi. Ranma smiled. “Hey, kiddo!”

“Hey, Uncle Ranma!” Kenshi replied, cheerful as always. He showed Ranma what he was holding in his arms. “I brought what we talked about.”

“I see that,” Ranma said. He turned and yelled up the stairs. “Keiko! Mitsuko! Come here!”

Keiko slid down the banister skillfully while Mitsuko trotted down the steps next to her. 

“What’s up, Dad?” Keiko asked, landing on her feet at the bottom of the stairs.

“Your cousin brought you a present.”

Ranma stepped aside and Kenshi moved forward, holding out a small, squirming black puppy. 

“ _A puppy?!_ ” Keiko screeched at the top of her lungs. “We get to have a _puppy?!_ ”

“Yeah,” said Ranma, smiling. “You guys deserve it.”

Keiko scooped the puppy up into her arms from Kenshi’s hold and hugged it to her chest. The puppy loved the attention, wiggling as it tried to lick her face. Mitsuko scratched the puppy behind the ears and its attention was immediately diverted as it squirmed out of Keiko’s arms and into her sister’s. 

“Dad, thank you so much!” Keiko said. “Come on, let’s go show Sora!”

The twins ran off towards the living room. Kenshi stiffened beside Ranma. “Sora? Does that mean—is Aiko here?”

“Yes,” replied Ranma patiently.

“Oh,” he squeaked. “That’s—that’s cool. That’s really cool. I’m gonna—I can say hi to her. I can talk to her.”

“You can,” agreed Ranma. He patted his nephew on the shoulder. “Go for it, bud.”

Kenshi nodded determinedly and marched off to the living room. Ranma turned to close the front door, but Toya was currently walking through it. He leaned on the wall as he slipped his shoes off. “Uncle Ranma.”

“Toya,” said Ranma. “How’s it going?”

“It’s going,” Toya replied, letting out a breath. “Is Ryoichi here? His books are overdue.”

“Yeah, he’s—”

“I’m telling you, I’m the boss of you now!”

“Not until Mom and Dad die you’re not!”

Mirai and Ryoichi were yelling at each other, walking in from the back. They had been in the dojo, along with Rantaro, Sakura, Takeshi, and Kuno. They paused and Ryoichi smiled at Toya. 

“Hey, Toya! Look, I know my books are overdue—”

“They are,” Toya asserted, walking over to the group. “So you—”

He stopped short as his eyes landed on Kuno. Immediately, his face turned a glowing red and steam appeared to be coming out of his ears. His mouth opened and closed repeatedly, but no sound came out.

Kuno wrinkled his eyebrows curiously. “I’m sorry, have we met?”

“You were both at the wedding,” Ryoichi said. 

“Ah, yes,” Kuno replied. “But I don’t think we had a chance to be introduced. I’m Nobunaga Kuno.”

He held out his hand in greeting. Toya stared down at it, dumbfounded, taking a long moment before he held out his own hand and shook. He still said nothing as he pumped Kuno’s arm up and down, so Ryoichi put one hand on his shoulder and grinned up at Kuno.

“This is my cousin, Toya,” Ryoichi said. “He’s a librarian.”

“Oh?” Kuno smiled pleasantly. “Then surely your vocabulary is as expansive as Ryoichi’s.”

“Ah-huh,” was all Toya could manage to squeak out in response, still shaking Kuno’s hand. 

“My brothers are such losers,” Mirai muttered, rolling her eyes. Sighing, she put her hands on her hips and turned to the front door, where Akemi had just arrived and began to take off her shoes. A glint came into Mirai’s eyes and she slid over the floor in her stocking feet.

“Well, hello,” Mirai purred as she approached Akemi. “And you are?”

“Uh-uh,” Ranma said sharply, grabbing Mirai by the back of her shirt. “She’s too old for you.”

“Pfft, no way,” Mirai scoffed. She turned back to Akemi with a salacious grin. “How old are you?”

“Thirty-three,” Akemi replied sweetly.

“That’s not too old,” responded Mirai. “And I am very mature for my age.”

“No she is not,” Ranma said in a flat voice to Akemi before dragging Mirai off by her shirt collar. Behind Ranma’s back, Mirai mimed a “call me” gesture, causing Akemi to giggle. 

He dragged her all the way to the living room before he released her. The doors to the koi pond were open and the twins and Sora were playing with the puppy on the deck. Kenshi, indeed, was making conversation with Aiko, or trying his damndest. He was certainly doing better than Toya currently was with Kuno, for what it was worth.

“So, Aiko,” he said, clearing his throat as he sat next to her at the table. “How is—how is college going?”

“Fine,” she replied, not looking up from her phone. Ukyo, sitting next to her, elbowed her gently. 

“Don’t be rude, Aiko-chan!”

Aiko rolled her eyes and put her phone down on the table. “It’s fine. How are the dogs or whatever?

“Good! They’re all good dogs!”

“Great,” she mumbled, picking her phone back up.

“Now, Kasumi, I told you, stay out of the kitchen,” Nodoka said, entering from the hallway. She was gently pushing Kasumi at the small of her back. “It’s your anniversary, you should relax! We have this covered!”

“Oh, but I just want to help—”

“Nah, sis,” Nabiki said from her position stretched out on the floor in front of the television. “You need to learn how to take it easy, like me.”

Ryoga, also sitting on the floor, pulled her feet into his lap and rubbed her calves affectionately. “You’re easy on the eyes, too.”

“Aw,” Nabiki said, pulling herself up as he leaned down to kiss her. 

“Gross,” Mirai said with a big smile. 

Still apprehensive, Kasumi tentatively took a seat next to her husband at the head of the table. Tofu put an arm around her shoulders and rubbed her upper arm.

“They’re right,” said Tofu. “You should relax. Twenty-five years is a long time to be married. Shouldn’t we get to just sit back and have fun?”

“I guess you’re right,” she said with a soft smile, leaning against him. 

Ryoichi and all his friends crowded into the room, followed by Toya and Akemi. Mirai raised her eyebrows and dashed over to Akemi, smirking.

“Well, hello,” she said. “We meet again.”

“No!” Ranma grabbed her shirt and pulled her backwards one more time. “I told you she’s too old!”

“Mirai-chan, should you really be going after older women?” Tofu asked, concerned.

“Dad, I know you of all people is not about to lecture me about age gaps—”

“Tha—that’s different!” Tofu stammered out, blushing. 

“What a cute puppy!” Sakura said, kneeling down near the younger kids to pet the dog. “What’s his name?”

Mitsuko and Keiko looked at each other. Mitsuko shrugged. “You pick.”

“Hmm.” Keiko tilted her head to the side, tapping her chin with one small finger. Looked around the room. Noticed her Uncle Ryoga. The light of realization ignited her eyes and she smiled. “P-chan!”

Ryoga froze, his shoulders stiff with shock. “What?!”

“P for puppy,” Keiko asserted. 

“It’s a good name,” said Akane, as she entered the room, wiping her hands with a towel. Toshiko and Shizuka were with her, and they each hugged Kasumi, wishing her a happy anniversary as they took their seats. Akane walked over to Ranma and he put an arm around her lower back. She did the same as they turned to face their children. “Now you guys are gonna take good care of him, right?”

“They gotta be a better pet owner than you, Akane,” Nabiki commented from the ground.

Akane frowned. “And what is that supposed to mean?!”

“ _Nihao!_ ”

Shampoo’s voice rang out from the entrance and not long after she and Mousse entered the room, holding a wrapped gift. She placed it on the table as everyone exchanged greetings. 

“You didn’t bring the kids?” Ranma asked Mousse.

Mousse, exhausted, stared back at him. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to bring twelve children literally anywhere?”’

“Ranma! Please help!” Hiroshi’s voice, from the kitchen. Ranma followed the summons to see Hiroshi looking worriedly at the multi-tiered cake on the kitchen table.

“What’s wrong?” Ranma asked. 

“I can’t get the flowers to look right,” moaned Hiroshi. “I’m no good at piping.”

“I can’t do this for you every time,” Ranma sighed, taking the pastry bag from Hiroshi. “But since it’s a special occasion—”

Grinning, Ranma bent over the cake and quickly and skillfully adorned it with several flowers made from colorful frosting. Once finished, he stepped back and admired his work. “I really am good at everything.”

“Yes you are, dear,” his mother said, turning around from the counter and patting his face. “Now help me carry out these appetizers?”

“Sure.”

Ranma, Nodoka, and Hiroshi stacked up several plates on their arms and carried them out to where the rest of the guests were gathered in the living room. 

“Ranma?” Genma, in the corner of the room, straightened up and adjusted his glasses, holding Ranma’s spare prosthesis in his other hand.

“What’s up, Pop?”

“This is your other leg? For when you’re a girl?”

“Sure is,” Ranma replied with a grin. 

“So you can just pop ‘em on and off?”

“Yeah,” said Ranma. “Wanna see?”

“Yes,” said Genma. “I do.”

Ranma bent over and detached his leg, setting it to the side. P-chan ran over and sniffed at it curiously. Ranma stood up straight and smiled at his father. “See?”

“You’re getting good at balancing on one foot, Ranma,” Ryoga commented, popping a potato chip into his mouth.

“Well, I was always good at that,” Ranma replied with a smug grin.

“True,” said Genma with a laugh. He set the spare prosthesis back down and walked over to his son, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Reminds me of old times.”

“Sure does, Pop.”

Genma glanced over Ranma’s shoulder and smiled mischievously. “And you know what I haven’t done in a while?”

“What’s that, Pop?”

“This.”

Genma lifted Ranma up by the front of his shirt, hefting him over his head, and then threw him with all his strength into the koi pond. Water splashed everywhere and everyone was still laughing when Ranma emerged from the pond, very wet and very female.

“What’d you do that for?” he screamed at his father indignantly.

Genma shrugged. “Just thought it would be funny.”

“And it was,” said Ryoichi.

“No it wasn’t,” said Ryoga. 

Ranma pulled himself out of the pond and onto the rocks and wrung the excess water out of his shirt. He flipped his damp braid back and shook his head. With a grunt, he managed to get his leg under his body in the correct position and pull himself upright.

“Here!”

Akane threw him his shorter prosthesis, and it spun through the air with a faint whir. Ranma caught it effortlessly with one hand. Bent over, fastened it in place. Stepped out onto the grass and took a deep breath, feeling the ground under his heels.

“Well,” said Nodoka. “Everyone’s here, so we should start.”

Akane nodded and stepped out onto the deck. 

“Ranma?” she asked. “Are you ready?”

Ranma stood in the yard for a moment, looking up at her. At everyone. His parents. His brothers and sisters. His niece and nephews. His son and daughters. Friends, new and old. Everyone gathered together to celebrate in the place he had called home for most of his life.

Akane. His wife. Standing in almost the exact same spot she had been when they first met. Not in a gi, now. A sweater. Jeans. Her hair, not long anymore. Short. Her eyes the same, only now adorned by a few wrinkles and framed by her glasses. Her smile, no different at all. Just as beautiful as they day they met. More.

_ I’ll love you until we’re old and gray. _

He didn’t know it yet, but they would live to be very old, and very gray. They would see their children have children, and their children’s children have children. There were still more monsters to fight, more friends to meet, more competitions to win. Long distances to run, mountains to climb, tears to shed, laughs to share. There were a million lifetimes ahead of him, just waiting, and Akane would be right there with him the whole time.

He didn’t know any of that yet, but if you had told him, he would have believed you.

Ranma grinned.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m ready.”


	38. Coda

_ When they were 42 _

“So you finally finished, huh? What did you think?”

Grinning, Ryoichi leaned back in his desk chair, putting both hands behind his head. He had spun around to face his husband, who had just set his tablet down on the arm of his chair.

“It’s really good, Ryoichi,” Rantaro said. He had spent several evenings sitting in the spare chair in Ryoichi’s office, making his way through the story his husband had written. 

Ryoichi frowned, lifting his reading glasses on top of his head. “There’s a ‘but’ coming, isn’t there?”

“It is long,” said Rantaro wearily. “Longer than any of your other books.”

Rantaro tilted his head over to the shelf against the wall that held several books that all bore Ryoichi’s name on the spine. 

“Well there was a lot of story to tell,” Ryoichi said defensively.

“Yeah, but did you have to start when they were sixteen?”

“It’s when they first met!” Ryoichi crossed his arms. Sighed. “I guess if I publish it, I can break it up into volumes.”

“Are you not going to publish it?” Rantaro asked. 

“It’s more of a present for my dad.”

Rantaro smiled. “He’s never read a book.”

“He’s read _my_ books,” retorted Ryoichi. “And Mom’s eyesight is going, so I bet we can get her to ask him to read it to her.”

“Not a bad idea.”

“All my ideas are good.”

“Sure,” said Rantaro with a placating nod. He turned and looked out of the window. Their house in the mountains had a great view of the valley below, but it was a hassle to get the kids down to school everyday. After a long moment, he turned back to Ryoichi. “I do like it, though. Really.”

“Yeah?” Ryoichi asked, smiling in relief.

“Yeah. It’s long, sure, but it’s fun. Sweet. It’s a great story.”

“Thank you,” Ryoichi said with false modesty. 

Rantaro sucked in a breath. “One thing, though—”   


“What?” Ryoichi asked flatly.

Rantaro squinted one eye and tilted his head to the side. “You did write a sex scene about your parents—”

“It was their wedding night!” Ryoichi cried in exasperation. “It was plot relevant!”

“Still weird.”

“Whatever,” Ryoichi muttered, pouting with his arms crossed. “It’s romantic.”

Rantaro laughed and stood up, leaning over to kiss Ryoichi on the forehead. “Of course. Now we gotta go get the kids.”

“All right,” Ryoichi said, standing up and stretching his arms above his head. “Let’s go.”

“One more thing,” Rantaro said as they began to put on their shoes at the front door. “What’s the title? I didn’t see one.”

“I was thinking a lot about it,” said Ryoichi slowly. “It’s a story about my dad, right?”

“Right.”

“And it starts right after he gets cursed, when he feels torn in two. And then the rest of the story is about how he finally comes to feel complete again.” Ryoichi took a deep breath and tilted his head to the side, smiling. “So I was thinking I would call it—”

========================================================================

RANMA 1/2


	39. Author's Notes

Originally, I feel like I had a lot to say here, but now that the story is finished, it's as if my brain is empty. If the notes seem rambling after this opening, then I apologize, but not really.

There were certain aspects of this story that have been floating around in my head since I was sixteen years old. Now I'm 34, and had never intended to actually write it out, but I did, and here it is. The ideas that have remained the same were: Ranma has a son, Ryoga's son shows up to fight him, and Ranma is no longer a practicing martial artist, but a baker. I don't remember if I had any other details than that.

But when I started writing this series, I was writing towards those end goals.

However, things change. Along the way, I ended up shipping Ryoga/Nabiki, and wrote a story about them falling in love. And I wanted it to be part of this series, but I also had plans for Ryoga's son and Ranma's son to fall in love. But if Nabiki was the mother, that would make them first cousins, and no thanks to that! So before I even started writing the Ryoga/Nabiki story, I tried to figure out how I could still make it work. Literally lied in bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to put it all together. And then it hit me.

The Parent Trap.

It's probably no secret to anyone who's made it this far, but I love The Parent Trap, both versions, to the degree my friends find it annoying. And it seemed fortuitous, as I had already planned on Ranma's youngest children being twins. So again, I wrote A Different Kind of Song knowing that eventually they would need to end up in a parent trap scenario. Not only did it help round out the story, it was incredibly fun to write all those shenanigans.

The other issue was originally I had no idea what Ryoichi's characterization should be. My only thoughts were "looks like Ranma. Does martial arts." So I thought on this too, and I had an idea of a teenage boy who just really loves his family. That seemed funny to me, and after that, the rest of his characterization crystallized clearly. He's charming and loves books and is bossy and anxious and a little bit stupid. He became so real and fleshed out that it improved the characterization of all the other characters. The Saotome family became very dear and precious to me while writing.

Except I understood that some people find precocious child characters annoying, which is why I put it in the tags, lol. However, I'm pretty fond of that trope, hence my love for The Parent Trap. Nonetheless, much like Akane, I find Mitsuko and Keiko adorable and I won't stand for any criticism of these amazing children!

A few other things. Possibly the math/ages don't line up right, but, uh, blame it on Ryoichi. He wrote the story. Also I watched a lot of TikToks as research for this and what I learned is I am very old and don't fully understand Gen Z, but I support them and their creativity. If I did the math correctly, technically this story should take place around 2018, which means some of the references are a bit ahead of their time, but this story also takes place in an alternate universe where there is no pandemic and the 2016 US presidential election turned out differently! Also, yes, marijuana is not popular at all in Japan due to an extremely harsh justice system, and it next to impossible Akane would actually smoke if this took place in real life. However, it's an alternate universe where the cops are nonexistent and/or incompetent, and it's fiction! Also I just wrote myself into a corner during the family dinner scene and I had no idea what Toshiko was going to do to help Akane lol.

And it was clear to me that Ranma would be a technologically impaired boomer in the modern day, which meant that Ryoga, ever his perfect foil, would be an internet poisoned Gen X twitter bro. Also Akane being a corny instagram wine mom is 100% in character, don't @ me.

When previewing this story for a friend, by the way, he said the character I'm most like is Mirai. Which, yes. I am obnoxious.

There are obvious themes, about history repeating. I love callbacks and running jokes and the-gang's-all-here-type-stories. And I knew from the first part of this series that Ranma's leg was gonna be a goner. So, again, I was writing towards that end.

This is also a story that deals with grief, in a lot of ways. Grief and nostalgia tend to be wrapped up together when you're looking back at the past. And this year, 2020, in real life, has been one where the entire worldwide population is grieving. Grieving for loved ones lost, for the loss of a normal way of life, for the loss of what could have been. While the characters in this story are not suffering from our real world source of grief, they certainly have felt it in other ways, from other causes.

There's a song lyric in that Francis and the Lights song, you know the one, May I Have This Dance, that goes "we are bound to inherit /  
the sins of our parents" that I think is also one of the main themes. It certainly echoed through my head as I wrote.

Perhaps this would have been finished quicker if I hadn't taken breaks to write lots of other, unrelated stories. Most of which you will never see because they are embarrassing! But there are two fics, unrelated to this series, that are totally complete and I will be posting at least one before Christmas. Also, shame time: I may or may not have also written some het omegaverse Ranma 1/2 stuff after those Lindsay Ellis videos blew up, lol. Remains to be seen if I ever publish those, but it is unlikely. 

I am grateful for all the comments and kudos left on the stories so far. If even one person likes the story, I'm happy. 

Finally, I really need to thank all my friends. They were extremely supportive of my entire process. There are a lot of jokes in here for them, or taken from them, because my friends are all beautiful, hilarious geniuses. Literally! Thanks, guys. I know you're reading this. I couldn't have done any of this without you.

EARNESTY OVER

Love,

Shaunna


End file.
